Madgod
by Colonel-Mustard1990
Summary: The Arena Champion finds the taste of victory one too bitter to swallow, while an endangered land calls for a hero. Will a gladiator in search of redemption be the saviour that the Shivering Isles needs, or will the Greymarch triumph once more? Shivering Isles AU fic, T for violence, general wierdness and a shoggoth.
1. The Champion

Madgod

Chapter 1-The Champion

_Sing deep, sing low, sing the song  
pay the piper to play it on  
to his tune you must dance  
and slumber in eternal trance  
for deep within its secret dreams  
madness desperate plots and schemes  
the gauntlet breaks the chain of snakes  
and its bloody bounty it finally takes  
the starving serpent eats the tail  
consuming slowly as a snail  
but patient, hungry, it awaits  
the cyclic feast it anticipates  
will we be free or forever slave  
hear the siren call of 'obey'  
or will Madgod rise and strike down  
mercury tide that would Isles drown?_

_Do not be here when it will come. It is hungry. It is angry. It has plans. Your nice little world which you're reading this in won't be all that nice if they come to fruition. Oh no. You lucky, lucky things. You honestly have no idea. Must I explain?_

_Very well. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin._

_Let's step back. Right now, we are at the end. To begin at the end is impossible. Not impossible, no, not here, nothing is impossible here, but to begin at the end here is implausible. Is that the word I want? No. Unnecessary. It is doing it wrong. Sometimes it works, but here it does not. So let's take a step back from here. _

His fished crashed down, crunching bone. A scream rang out.

"Mercy! Please, mercy!"

"Mercy?" he asked, gauntlet raised above his head, his scarred, battered face contorted with rage. "_You_ want mercy? That's just too good."

_No, not far enough, further back we go. We need to get to before that. No context. That's too close to the end for what we want._

He and Her Ladyship turned around on the glass platter as it rose above the city, stepping around one another's feet as they danced.

"See," she said. "I told you you'd be good at this; it's all about the rhythm."

He nodded, glancing down at their feet self-consciously as they moved.

"Relax," she said, steering a hand gently down his back, guiding him along. "You're learning fast, my dear."

The world spun below them as they danced on their rotating glass platform, hovering in midair.

_No, further back still. Is this it? Is this the place?_

He pulled himself up the top of the ladder, through the trapdoor, into the great glass globe at the tower's very top. He stared at the figure sitting cross-legged a few feet from him on a cushion, and the eyes of the man stared back at him.

In a voice as thick and rich as Felldew, Sentinel said; "Ah, you're here. I saw you coming, you know."

_Not here, no. No, no, where is it? Where do I start?_

The Angel of Rage slammed down before him in a landing that sent a cloud of ash blossoming around her. Wings of flame and lightning pinned themselves to her back, and a mace of fire materialised in her hand. Her ruined face twisted into a grimacing snarl as she beheld the intruder.

"Why are you here, mortal?" she demanded. "Why should I not destroy you?"

_Not yet. She comes partway through. This is all too late, nobody will understand it, you fool!_

They opened with a creak, and he saw it spread before him. A twisted landscape of gnarled roots, growing upwards into the air whilst leafy branches clawed at the ground. Rock formations of shimmering, rainbow stone formed bizarre shapes, ones that seemed to gain form as you looked at them, moved, grew, reached towards you. Faces grew from the scenery, hungry mouths and gasping maws, clawing talons.

He blinked and glanced away, setting off for the city in the distance.

_No, not quite. Nearly there, nearly there. Here we are. Here, we begin._

He was drinking to the death of his best friend.

He getting slapped on the back, cheered, toasted, hailed as a hero, bought drinks, and all for the simple reason that he had just killed his best friend.

The night was a blur of tankards, one swallowed after another. There were yells of encouragement, the crowd urging him on once more, their favourite, their hero, their champion. He could only remember them being quiet from earlier, when they had all fallen silent right after that moment.

The taste of ale, the smell of smoke, the offensive eye-watering blur of flaming torches. He couldn't focus his gaze properly, he noticed, and his tongue felt numb. He was getting drunk. Good.

"'nother drink!" he slurred out, swaying as he did so. Behind and beside him, the rest of the Blue Team cheered their approval and assent, ordering another round. He wasn't paying tonight. He didn't know who was paying tonight, and he didn't care. What he wanted right now was noise. What he wanted right now was cheering. What he wanted right now was distraction.

His head was numb, spinning, buoyant. He managed to grin as complete strangers approached him, shook his hand, and grinning was good. Grinning meant he was happy, and he knew that it was important that he felt happy, that everyone expected him to be happy. He thought he was happy, so he was. He had the ale down the hatch, and that was good. That was a good way to get happy, get happy quickly.

"That's our Carnius. Ain't that something? Our Carnius, of all the people."

That was one of the boasts. One of the favourites

"Waterfront boy, he is. Knew him since he were a kid."

And there, another. He could pick the threads of conversation out as the Waterfront locals boasted about him, their Carnius, who had grown up around here. A real local hero. Something to boast about. Something to be proud of. Just went to show.

He stood, the sudden movement sending him swaying. There was a chorus of questions about what he was doing, where he was going and he answered them with; "Goin' out back. Be back in a minute."

He stumbled outside, moving through the inn, the crowd of blurry faces parting before him. He caught snippets of detail, a grin from an admirer, an alluring look from a hopeful wench, a torch burning in a bracket, a knot in the wooden surface of a table. The din of the tavern muted as he entered the back alley. It was a good tavern, that one. Good stories there. That time he and Agronak had nearly got arrested for brawling, only for the Watch to recognise who they were and haul everyone else off but leave them be, shaking their hands as they did so. That was one of the good ones. One of the favourites.

He urinated down the back wall, in the quiet, concentration taken up by the task at hand, before he finished relieving himself. And then, for a moment, in the quiet that followed, he was drawn back to earlier that day, in the hush that had come. The hush that had come when the battered, broken corpse had slumped to the floor of the arena, armour clattering, as Carnius had stepped back from the body of Agronak Gro-Malog, the Grey Prince. The hush that had come as he had limped away, down to the bloodworks. The hush that had come as he had done so without acknowledging the silent crowd, with the cheering only rumbling into his range of hearing as he had splashed chilly water from the Basin of Restoration onto his face.

And for a moment, the clarity and the harsh reality he had been avoiding since then hit him like the blow from a warhammer. Agronak was dead. He had killed him.

Carnius Hackelt, new Grand Champion of the arena, leant forwards against the wall and quietly wept for what he had just done.


	2. Her Ladyship

Chapter 2-Her Ladyship

Carnius walked through the streets of the Imperial City in the same way he always did; disguised and unseen by its people.

To them, he was just an ordinary man, muscular in build with battered features, a scar on his left cheek, a nose that had been broken and clumsily reset. An adventurer, a mercenary, a hired thug or perhaps a soldier. Perhaps not worth the time of someone looking to mug an easy victim, but nothing out of the ordinary.

People only recognised him, Carnius found, when he was wearing his gauntlets. That was his mark, his uniform, and bystanders realised who he was only with those on. The rest of the time, he was nobody.

Today, he liked that. He felt like being nobody. Though he could do without feeling like his skull was lined with dog hair.

He made his way past the tall, vaulted, white stone buildings of the market district of the Empire's capital, along the cobbled streets. The streets bustled around him, people both rich and poor brushing past him, while the stink of horse dung and sewage pervaded the air. He avoided the main road, where carts and horses rumbled along, and kept a wary eye looking skywards in case anyone was dumping waste out of a window.

His journey had the final destination of the Arena, and as he reached the imposing stone building the sound of cheering reached his ears. A match on, he thought, and judging by the volume and relatively scant enthusiasm of it, probably a pair of pit dogs. He smirked at the realisation that he was able to judge that just from the sound of the crowd, but he supposed that wasn't surprising; he knew the crowd, knew its moods and fickle favours, had performed for it more times than he cared to remember.

"Carnius," Hundolin called as he approached, the Arena's bookie raising a hand in greeting. "Back here already? I though Ysabel was letting you have a little time off."

"Thought I'd work off the hangover on a punchbag," Carnius said.

"Might not be happening," Hundolin said. "Her Ladyship is watching the match at the moment; she'll want to talk to you."

"Oh, she is?" Carnius asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'll go speak to her."

So his sponsor had turned up to match the day after he'd won his title as Grand Champion. He'd seen her at the match, of course, but to have her coming back now was surprising. She was probably looking for new talent.

Nobody was quite sure who Her Ladyship was. She was nobility, without a doubt, a duchess or lady or something similar, but anyone Carnius asked was never certain about what she was duchess or lady of. But she had money, excellent taste, was a regular customer to the arena and had, in her time, sponsored several promising gladiators, Carnius included. That sort of thing was enough to make sure people didn't ask too many questions, even if nobody actually knew her name.

He made his way up through the stands, to the top where the boxes for the richer customers were reserved. At the busier matches, the top corridor was usually lined with bodyguards for each individual box, but this time it was occupied only by the twins Her Ladyship employed. They nodded a greeting to him as he approached, which Carnius returned, and one of them pushed the door open for him.

"I wasn't expecting a visitor," Her Ladyship said as Carnius stepped into her private box. "But it's good to see you, Carnius."

Carnius was unsure exactly how she had known it was him, but he supposed it was just one of the things Her Ladyships was capable of. A perfectly manicured hand, kept with a near-obsessive meticulousness by some beautician, patted the vacant seat next to her, and she said; "Please, take a seat."

"Thought you might want to see me," Carnius said, looking down at the arena. "Seeing as your sponsorship's over now. Ysabel's disappointed."

"I'm sure she'll live," Her Ladyship said. "No doubt she's already lining up candidates for me to invest in."

This got a chuckle from Carnius.

"Either of those two pit dogs down there worth my coin?" Her Ladyship asked as she noticed the direction of his gaze.

"Blue team one, I reckon," Carnius said after a thoughtful minute, watching as the Argonian in question blocked a flurry of axe blows from the Nord he was fighting with his shield. The lizard-man made a spirited swing at the yellow team fighter with his flail, but the Nord simply stepped back out of the attack's reach before it could hit home.

"Really?" Her Ladyship asked. "He appears to be losing. You aren't just saying that out of a sense of patriotism, are you?"

Carnius shook his head.

"He hasn't been trained," he explained. "That Nord's only winning because he has been. And he's not exactly making all that good a job of the match."

"I see," Her Ladyship said. "A potential Grand Champion, do you think?"

"No," Carnius said.

"What makes you so sure?" Her Ladyship asked.

"He's a pit dog," Carnius replied. "Too early to tell."

"And when can you tell that someone is a potential Grand Champion, then?"

"When he's in the arena facing Agro…facing me," Carnius replied. "That's when."

Her Ladyship nodded.

"Well said," she said.

There was a silence between them as they watched the match. The yellow team's fighter split the Argonian's shield, before a kick sent the blue team gladiator sprawling to the floor, knocking his flail from his hand. The Nord's heavy boot stamped down on his opponent's chest, pinning him to the ground, axe raised to split his skull.

"Kill him! Kill him!" some members of the crowd chanted as the Nord looked around for confirmation as to whether he should spare the lizard-man before him or not. Beast-folk always seemed to get more people chanting for their blood, Carnius had noted in the past.

"Well, shall we let him live?" Her Ladyship asked. The Nord's gaze had fallen on her, of course; getting the favour of a noble was a good way to win future funding for better equipment and training, and it always did well to do what they demanded.

"Let him go," Carnius nodded. "Owyn can give him a dressing down, but he won't be half bad once he actually figures out how to use that weapon of his properly."

"Very well," Her Ladyship said, sounding somewhat disappointed. "If he proves himself, perhaps I'll give him a little funding. I'm feeling generous, now that my primary investment has paid off so handsomely."

She stood, and said in a voice that somehow carried, despite the fact that it wasn't raised; "Spare him; he's proven himself well enough to earn that."

The Nord nodded, getting a mixture of cheers and jeers from the crowd, stepping off the Argonian's chest and allowing the beast-man to rise. The two fighters limped away to their respective exits, each one of them going to their own Fountains of Restoration to heal up.

"I remember your first match quite well, you know," Her Ladyship said after a moment, returning to her seat. "The youth stepping out of his cage armed with nothing more than a pair of steel gauntlets and punching the other pit dog into submission. You were the first unarmed fighter I'd seen in the arena. Do you remember that, Carnius?"

"Course I do," Carnius replied as the arena began to empty. How could he forget? That first, bloodthirsty thrill of victory, the elation of the crowd cheering him, and that beautiful, golden-skinned woman standing in her box, smiling at him and raising a goblet of wine in a toast.

That had been nearly fifteen years ago, and somehow Her Ladyship hadn't aged a day since, keeping her looks of a woman in her mid thirties. Probably some enchantment they put into the makeup of the nobles or another trick like that, he reckoned; it was the sort of thing the rich folk could afford, after all. There were dark rumours that her agelessness was because she was a vampire, but Carnius couldn't help but feel that that was nonsense. She simply didn't seem like a vampire; vampires were, according to rumour, able to turn men mute with terror with a look, but when she smiled at Carnius she had a way of somehow making him feel a little taller and a little better about himself. Probably had some High Elf blood in her or something like that.

"So what does the future hold for you then, Carnius?" Her Ladyship asked.

"Now?" Carnius said. "I'm not sure. Training, a few matches here and there, that sort of thing, I suppose. What Agronak did before…you know."

"You sound like you're at a bit of a loose end, there," Her Ladyship said.

"I suppose; I was so focussed on actually become Grand Champion I never actually thought about what I'd do after it."

Aside from them, the arena was now empty.

"Well," Her Ladyship said. "Perhaps you will find something new to fill your time soon enough. Maybe it is time to move away from the Arena."

Carnius snorted at that, and got a raised eyebrow in return.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"It's a gladiator thing," Carnius said. "You can't leave the Arena, once you sign up. Sure, you can go work as a mercenary or an adventurer or something like that, but you can't leave it."

"Why not? Is it part of your contract? Are you hunted down if you go?"

"No, it's just…you can't leave," Carnius replied. "It's a rule, or an obligation, something like that. It's not written down, but you come here and you stay here. You don't die of old age; you die down there, in the ring. Every gladiator does."

"I've heard of plenty of who died elsewhere," Her Ladyship said.

"They aren't proper gladiators."

Her Ladyship gave a quiet chuckle at this.

"If you're sure that you are," she said. "Then stay."

Carnius frowned for a minute, trying to figure out what she meant by that, before she rose.

"I suppose I should leave, seeing as the match is over," she said. "Good luck with holding that title of yours, Grand Champion."

She swept away towards the door, before Carnius called out; "Wait a minute."

Her Ladyship stopped.

"Yes?"

"I never asked," Carnius said. "Why did you choose to sponsor me? Of all the contestants down there in the arena, all that time ago, why me?"

"Because I saw potential for a champion," Her Ladyship said. "That's the only reason why."

"And why do you want a Grand Champion?"

"Everyone needs a champion, sooner or later," she said. "I'm just looking out for the right person for the job."

She stepped through the door, and was gone.


	3. The Biggest Runt on Nirn

Chapter 3-The Biggest Runt on Nirn

"Carnius," Owyn said as the new Grand Champion stepped under one of the arches that supported the Arena's main structure. "You're back already? I wasn't expecting to see you here just yet."

Carnius shrugged.

"Thought I'd spend some time on the punchbag," he said. "Got a bit of a headache; work it off."

"Ahuh? Y'know, Ysabel had a few ideas about what you could do now you're the new Grand Champion," Owyn said as Carnius shrugged his shirt off and stepped up to one of the sacks full of straw hanging from the ceiling that he used for training.

"I'll bet she does," he said as he began to strike it, a series of rapid blows that thudded against the cheap leather bag.

"She was thinking about matches against animals," Owyn said as Carnius continued to pound the punchbag. "Maybe once a week; something regular to pull the crowds in."

Carnius nodded, focusing most of his attention on the leather before him. The point of impact, where he struck again and again, was beginning to sag. If he'd had his gauntlets on, he probably would have ripped it open by now.

Owyn frowned.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Later, Owyn," Carnius replied, not relenting from the rain of blows he was slamming onto the punchbag.

"Eh, fine," Owyn said. "I've got to go yell at that pit dog about his performance in the ring, anyway."

The Redguard left, and Carnius' brow furrowed in concentration as he attacked the bag. It was a relentless activity, and he paused only every minute or so to catch his breath. He'd soon run out of steam just from the sheer remorselessness of it, but it was the sort of thing he wanted to do. You didn't have to think when you worked over a punchbag; you just hit and hit and hit and hit. The world was pushed to one side, any worries or troubles you had could be lost in the same implacable repetition of striking one blow after another. You just worked away, losing your mind in the rhythm of fists striking against leather and letting the minutes drift by.

"Champiiioooon!" a hoarse, rasping voice cheered from behind him all of a sudden. Carnius knew who that was; there was nobody else it could be.

"Hello, Ta'Xarna," Carnius said, not looking away from his work.

"What's this?" Ta'Xarna asked from behind him. "Where is Khajiit's greeting?"

"Said hello, didn't I?"

This got him a snort of derision, but Carnius ignored it and continued his punching. He was beginning to flag, he could feel, run out of energy, but considering how long he must have been doing it that wasn't a surprise.

A furry hand waved in front of his eyes and Carnius stepped back out of instinct, pushing it away from him and bringing fists up on an automatic reaction, swivelling on the spot to face Ta'Xarna. The tiny Khajiit just grinned at him.

"Just making sure you were all there," he said as Carnius lowered his fists. "You pay attention to Khajiit now, yes?"

"Oh sod off, Ta'Xarna," Carnius replied, shaking his head.

"No," the Khajiit replied. "You are Grand Champion now. We are celebrating!"

"I celebrated last night," Carnius said.

"We are celebrating again," Ta'Xarna replied. "Khajiit is taking you to a tavern, getting drunk, finding a pretty wench and making much love to her. You are doing the same too. Different wench though." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe share if she is pretty enough and no other good women are around."

"For the Nine's sake, it's too early to get drunk," Carnius said. He frowned and added; "What time is it, anyway?"

"After sunrise and before sunset," Ta'Xarna said. "And not too early to go and get drunk. _Never_ too early to go and get drunk. Now put a shirt on, we're going to find a tavern."

Carnius probably could have told Ta'Xarna to get lost and continued with his work, but that would have had little success in stopping the efforts of the five-foot Khajiit, so he just shrugged.

"Fine," he said, picking his shirt up from where he had left it and pulling it on. "Let's go."

"That's my boy!" Ta'Xarna said with a clap of his hands, the soft pads on them muffling the noise. "We will find two pretty ladies today! Elves, Khajiit is thinking."

The Khajiit and the Imperial made a strange pair as they left the arena, the small beast-man chatting animatedly to his fellow who stood a good head taller than him. His arena name, the Mighty Ta'Xarna, largest runt on Nirn, was a joke that only he could like, but despite the fact that the scimitar he fought with was the size of him and he did battle in a jester's cap, Ta'Xarna was as vicious as they came. Not to mention that the crowd absolutely adored him.

The tavern they picked a waterfront one, despite Ta'Xarna's protestations that all the women worth his time would be up at one of the fancier establishments in the city. It was dark, quiet and slightly dingy, just what Carnius was looking for, and the rather dumpy barmaid there knew them both well enough.

"Back already, I see," she remarked as they pushed open the door.

"Eh, we were going to come here again sooner or later," Ta'Xarna replied as they took a seat at the bar. "Might as well make it sooner."

This got him a laugh, and he added; "Two meads for this Khajiit and his fine friend."

"Coming up," the barmaid nodded, pulling a pair of pewter mugs from under the counter.

"Why did we come here?" Ta'Xarna asked, glancing around at the barely inhabited bar. "I don't see a single woman here worth Khajiit's time."

"You can go and find some later," Carnius said. "I just want a drink."

"Fine, fine," Ta'Xarna asked. "You're Grand Champion now, I'd think you want to celebrate it a bit more."

"Just wish Agronak was here," Carnius said.

Ta'Xarna shrugged.

"I'll miss him too," he said. "But he always tugged my ears."

"Everyone tugs your ears," Carnius replied, giving a small grin despite himself. To emphasise his point, he grabbed one of Ta'Xarna's ears and pulled it, earning a yowl of protest, Ta'Xarna flailing a paw to fend him off.

"Leave Khajiit's ear alone, or you're going without one," he growled, bearing his teeth. He shook his head. "Anyway, Agronak's ear pulling was special. You could tell he really meant it. That always made Khajiit feel loved."

Carnius nodded, before Ta'Xarna said; "Don't worry, I'll let you have a few years as Grand Champion before I go and steal your title."

"That isn't funny," Carnius said, shaking his head as the barmaid set their drinks down in front of them. "Cheers."

"Is pretty funny for Khajiit," Ta'Xarna replied.

"Yeah, well you've always had a strange sense of humour," Carnius replied, to which Ta'Xarna shrugged.

"Is normal one for any old Khajiit," he said. "You Imperials just don't get it."

"If you're sure," Carnius said. He raised his tankard, and said; "To Agronak."

"To Agronak," Ta'Xarna echoed, clinking his against Carnius'. "And all the other good friends we've lost in the arena."

Carnius nodded at that last comment. It was a sobering truth that both them would most likely die on the sands just as the Grey Prince had. It was probably why he wasn't feeling as bad as he thought he should feel; he'd grown used to this sort of thing.

"Hey!" someone called across the tavern, and Carnius glanced over to see someone hurrying over to him. "Hey, Carnius, lad! I heard about you and the arena."

Carnius glanced over to see an old man with a walking stick limping towards them, a grin on his weathered, wrinkled face.

"Gannall," Carnius said as the old man approached. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Suppose not, suppose not," Gannall said. "I don't mind, don't worry; you were probably busy training up till now, weren't you?"

"Yeah," Carnius said slowly, who decided to mention that he had simply been neglecting to come down to the waterfront for a while. "Didn't you see the match?"

"Couldn't afford a seat," the old man said, pulling up a stool. "And I didn't want to go bothering you for one, before you say that you'd have given me one; I may be poor, but I'm proud. Never begged anything off another man in my life, and I'm not starting now."

He shook his head.

"To think," he said. "I knew you since you were a little lad. And now look at you; Grand Champion of the Arena!"

He grinned and clapped Carnius on the shoulder.

"Your old dad would be proud of you, if he was still around to see it," he said. "We're _all_ proud of you down here, you know; a Waterfront lad, getting famous from nothing. Just goes to show that there's hope for us all, eh?"

"Suppose it does," Carnius said, shifting in his seat as if suddenly uncomfortable. The last thing that had crossed his mind was doing the Imperial City Waterfront, of all places, proud, but if that was what the old man liked to think, then he was welcome to think it, Carnius supposed.

"You know what's best about you and all this?" Gannall said, completely unaware of any discomfort on Carnius' behalf. "You stuck with us, despite all your money and fame; you didn't suddenly brush us all off and go mingling with nobby types and saying that we were good for nothing. You stuck by us. That's something special, that is."

"Thanks," Carnius said, unsure what to say.

"Ah, don't go thanking me, lad," Gannall replied. "Y'know what, I'll leave you and your Khajiit friend to your drinks, but I just wanted to say that. You did a good thing, sticking with your roots."

He stepped up, and began calling to the barmaid for a drink, and Ta'Xarna watched him go.

"You know," he said after a moment. "Why _do_ you stay down here, anyway?"

"I just do," Carnius said. "My house down here is fine. Besides, I was born here."

"Khajiit was born in the docks in Anvil," Ta'Xarna replied. "Doesn't make them any better. As soon as Khajiit had the money to come and be a gladiator, he didn't stay back in his awful shack in the port. Khajiit got his money and got himself a house. Now look where he lives; big place in the Elven Gardens, with garden, dining room, bedrooms, even a secret cellar for Skooma and Moon Sugar. Where do you live? Run-down hut down here, even though you're making lots of cash with every fight you do."

"My house is fine," Carnius said. "I'm happy with it. Besides, you know I'm no good with numbers; if I tried to buy a place I'd just get ripped off."

"Who'd do that to you? You're six feet tall and can punch someone to death."

"I just don't think it's worth the trouble."

"If you're sure," Ta'Xarna said, though Carnius could sense the doubt on the Khajiit's voice.

The real reason was more than that, but if he told Ta'Xarna then the best he'd get would be bafflement and at worst the Khajiit laughing in his face. Agronak probably would have understood, Carnius reckoned, but not Ta'Xarna, as much as he liked the cheerfully sociopathic beast-man. The reason why he hadn't moved away was the same reason you never left the Arena once you joined it; if you were part of it, it owned you, forever. If he'd bought a new house with the money he'd won in the arena, nobody would say anything, and nobody would do anything, but there would be that quiet wellspring of resentment that would always bubble away back where he was born. It always happened when people managed to make money and moved away. Had Carnius left, people would quietly remark to themselves; "Carnius thinks he's Better Than Us. He's got Ideas that are Above His Station. He's let it all Go To His Head. He's Letting The Side Down. He's Associating With All The Posh Types now." He'd no longer become a beloved local hero, but instead be the one who sold out to fame and riches and forgot where he came from.

Of course, his sponsoring from Her Ladyship was probably him associating with the posh types in any case, but nobody seemed to have noticed that outside of the arena. After all, why talk about that sort of thing when you could talk about the time that mad Khajiit in the jester's cap chopped a Nord in half with a scimitar? Or that time the Grey Prince had beaten four men alone, armed with just a short sword?

He drained his drink as that memory jogged something important, rising from his seat.

"Where are you going?" Ta'Xarna asked, frowning. "We're nowhere near to being drunk."

"I've got something I need to do," Carnius said.

"Can't it wait?"

"No," Carnius replied, putting a handful of septims on the counter. "It's important. That's for the mead."

Ta'Xarna frowned.

"If you insist," he replied. "Maybe I can go to a place with prettier girls, now. Find those two elves I wanted."

"Yeah, fine," Carnius said, hurrying out.

Ta'Xarna shrugged before finishing his own drink, shaking his head as he set it down. If Carnius was gone, he supposed, there was nothing to hold him and his fun back. Now, at least, he might find something worth his time.


	4. The Parting Gift

Chapter 4-The Parting Gift

You prepared for these things when you worked as a gladiator. In a profession where death was a constant that hung over you on gossamer threads, it was foolishness not to. Those who lasted in the arena knew that the likelihood of each match being their last increased with every bout, and so took some measures and made preparations. Everybody at the arena had the sense to get their affairs in order sooner rather than later.

Agronak had not had anything as fancy as a proper will and testament made with a lawyer, mainly because he had never trusted them. Instead, he had given Carnius a key and made him promise that he would do as he had asked with it if he ever died in the arena.

Carnius' first destination was his house on the waterfront. He unlocked the door to his small, shabby and yet well kept one-storey home and headed through the main room into his bedroom. It was simple and Spartan, more a place to sleep than to live, with the only other bits of furniture being a bedside table, a wardrobes for his clothes and a chest to safeguard his possessions. There were no books or even any pictures; Carnius hadn't time for the latter and he found former too much trouble to work out for it to be any kind of pleasure.

He picked up the chest with a grunt, heaving it to one side and pulling back the threadbare green rug it lay on top of. Underneath that was a trapdoor, and he clicked back the bolt and lifted it up.

Beneath it, there was another chest. There were several items here that were most important to him; much of his coin, as, like Agronak, he held with local wisdom that said it was bad to trust lawyers, bankers or any of their kind, a few other bits of personal memorabilia and the key.

He took it and tucked it into his pocket, closing the chest and placing it back in its hiding place, dropping the chest over it and making sure that the rug wasn't obviously disturbed. His work done, he left his house, locking the door behind him once more as he headed for Agronak's old house.

When he found it, there were already people there, people he didn't know. Opening up the door, going through it. Ransacking and looting it.

He strode towards one of them who was standing outside it with a heavy ledger and a quill, and asked; "What's going on? Who are you?"

"Quinitus Tarral, Imperial Office of Taxation and Audits," the man replied. "The inhabitant of this house here passed away yesterday, and as he specified no inheritor in his will it's now property of the Empire. You a friend of his?"

"Yes," Carnius replied. "And you can't do this."

"Why not?" Quinitus asked. "It's all perfectly legal."

Carnius shook his head; he couldn't argue with that.

"Look," he said. "I'm a friend of his. He made me promise to do something with his money for him if he died. I need to get it."

Quinitus snorted.

"Nice try," he said. "He's got no will, so you don't have a leg to stand on, let me assure you of that. Now move along and stop wasting my time."

"Is everything still in there?" Carnius asked, changing subject.

"Yes, it is, seeing as we're still making an inventory of it all," Quinitus replied. "And that doesn't mean you're getting in."

"Right," Carnius said. "Thanks."

He stepped past Quinitus, through the front door.

"Hey!" the clerk called after him "Where are you going?"

"In there," Carnius said as he entered the spacious hallway.

"You can't do that!" Quinitus protested. "Don't make me call the Watch!"

"Call them if you want," Carnius said. "I don't care."

Quinitus hestitated as Carnius stepped into what looked like a study before hurrying after Carnius.

"I'm warning you," he said.

Carnius turned on him, and Quinitus gulped as he realised just how much taller and brawnier than him Carnius was, clutching his ledger to his chest like a shield.

"Look," Carnius said. "I made Agronak a promise that I'd do something with his money for him if he died. I know you're just doing your job, but if you keep getting in my way then we're going to have a problem. Understand?"

"Yes," Quinitus managed. "Look, I know you might be upset if he was your friend, but I really can't let you do this, please! There's a legal process and everything we can work it out, but I can't just let you march in here and take things. I'd lose my job if I did that."

He shook his head, and said; "Who are you, anyway?"

"The new Grand Champion."

Quinitus was quiet for a moment, before he said; "Oh."

After a second he added a hesitant; "Congratulations, I suppose."

"Thanks," Carnius said. "Now look, can I get Agronak's money out? I'm not just going off with it, and he made me promise to do something with it. Look, he even gave me this key for his strongbox and everything."

He fished it out of his pocket to prove his point, and Quinitus frowned. Carnius could see he had the small man running scared, and he had enough self-preservation instinct in him to decide that refusing the Grand Champion was a bad idea.

"I suppose," he said after a moment. "Seeing as you have the key and everything, it counts as a verbal contract. And if the money's with a trusted party and is accounted for, it should be alright. Nothing I'd lose my job over."

Carnius nodded.

"Say it was a charitable donation," he said. "They don't tax those, do they?"

"No, no," Quinitus said. "You can take the money, if you want. Just don't punch anyone, please."

"I wasn't planning on it," Carnius replied as he pulled open a cupboard on the desk Agronak had. He wasn't sure how much the Grey Prince would have actually used it; he was hardly the most academic of people. The speculation was immaterial, however, and what was more immediate was the grey steel box in there. He placed the key in its lock and clicked it open, pulling the lid back to inspect the stash of Septims within it. He wasn't sure of the sum within, but Grand Champion was a well-paid title and it was certainly a lot. He closed it, nodding in satisfaction, taking it and tucking it under his arm.

"Alright," he said. "I'm done."

He doubted there was much else he could do for Agronak's house now.

Quinitus nodded, then hesitantly held up his quill and asked he asked; "I don't suppose you can sign my ledger, could you?"

"Fine," Carnius shrugged. "Where do you want me to sign it?"

Quinitus flicked to the back of it, to a blank page, and said; "Just there would be fine."

Carnius nodded, taking the quill and scrawling something approaching his name on the parchment.

"Now there's a keepsake worth hanging onto," Qunitius said, ripping the page from the book. "Thank you."

"It's alright," Carnius said, making for the door.

He left Agronak's house with his package, heading back through the crowded streets of the Imperial city. People bustled around him, but paid him no more heed other than to move out of his way. Soon enough, he had found his destination; a large building of white stone, one that looked old but was still well kept, with the words 'Saint Allesia's Home for Parentless Children' written on a sign above the door.

He rapped his knuckles on the heavy oak door, and after a few moments of waiting it swung open for him. He was greeted by an Imperial woman, who asked him; "Yes, sir? What can I do for you?"

"I've come to make a donation," Carnius said. "Just a bit of, you know, charity."

He rattled the strongbox and the girl nodded.

"Of course, thank you," she said. "Come on in."

She lead him through into a small side room, and nodded for him to set down the strongbox on the table.

"How much are you giving?" she asked as Carnius did so, pulling the key from his pocket.

"I'm not sure," Carnius replied. "I was just giving you what's in the box."

He pulled the lid back, revealing the contents, and she gasped as she looked at the gold within.

"By the Nine," she murmured. "I…there must be thousands in there. Thank you, sir. Thank you so much. There's been work on the building we've needed to and we were worried about how we were going to get the money, but this is…thank you, thank you."

She bit her lip, tears of amazed gratitude beginning to well before she cleared her throat.

"Sorry," she managed. Carnius was standing a little uncomfortably, blushing at the outburst of emotion. "This is just…it's quite a shock, that's all."

"It's fine," Carnius said. "I think I understand."

She nodded.

"What's your name, sir," she said. "I mean, we were hoping to build a new set of dormitories and if you wanted to we could name it after you; this should pay for it."

"It's not my money," Carnius said. "I'm giving it on behalf of a friend of mine. He, ah, he can't deliver it himself."

"Oh," the woman said. "I'm sorry to hear that. It was a very generous thing of him to ask for. What was his name? We can put up the new wing as a memorial for him, if you think it would be the sort of thing he would like; it would be a good thing to be remembered by."

"Yeah, he'd like that," Carnius said. "His name was Agronak; Agronak Gro-Malog."

"The Grey Prince?" the orphanage's proprietor asked, to which Carnius nodded. "I see. I suppose he was well known for being charitable with his money."

She smiled at him, and said; "Thank you, again. There would have been a lot of people who would have kept this, I think. It was good of you to do this."

"I promised him," Carnius replied with a shrug. "And I'm a man of my word."

"And the world could use more men like you," the woman said. "Thank you again, sir. I'll be sure to put this to good use."

"I'm sure you will," Carnius said. "I think I should go, though. Good luck with making that new wing."

He rose to left, before he was stopped by the orphanage's owner asking; "I didn't get your name, sir. What is it?"

"It's nothing important," Carnius said. "I was just a friend of Agronak's, that's all."

"If you say so," she said. "But if it's all the same, thank you. We're in your debt here."

"Don't mention it," Carnius replied. "I just passed the money on."

He nodded a farewell to her, which she returned, still sitting by the box with a disbelieving air about her. He made his way through the front door, making sure the latch closed behind him, and it was as he stepped back onto the street that he realised something; he had absolutely no idea of what he was going to do with himself next.


	5. The Door

Chapter 5-The Door

_There's scratching. Scratching in the walls. I don't know what it is. I don't know why there is scratching. Nobody told me that there would be this damn scratching._

_I listened. Put down my quill, halted this chronicle, something dangerous in itself (don't tell them, please. They'll be angry with me. We can't let that happen) and listened against the walls. There is a scraping, a gnawing, a scratching, something eating away at them. It must know I'm in here._

_Oh no. Please, if you're reading this, send help. Send help, stop it before it gets in! _

_But the chronicle…the chronicle must continue._

_Must write it or they'll see I've stopped…_

The crowd roared as the razor-edged claw closed over the heavy gauntlet, clattering against Daedric ebony and gripping. The land-dreugh tugged, trying to stumble Carnius with the grip it held against him, but the gladiator moved with it. He pulled himself in as he swung a punch with his free hand, slamming the spiked knuckles of the heavy metal gloves into the thick carapace that guarded its arm. The bone armour cracked on the impact and the claw released, and Carnius braced raised his arm as the other one swung towards him.

It hit the vambrace protecting his wrist and he turned his forearm as it impacted. The claws slid away before they could get a grip and Carnius' hand twisted around, gripping onto it as the land-dreugh lost balance, the crablike creature shrieking in anger and dismay before his free fist slammed home on the joint. Its cries turned to those of pain as the armour around it cracked into jagged shards that sliced into muscles and severed nerves, the claw lolling uselessly as the crablike being stumbled away from his grip.

Across the arena sands, man and beast faced one another. Carnius panted, blood pounding in his ears as he sized up his opponent in an instant. One of its claws was now useless, nothing more than a barely-controllable club with a sharp, bony edge, the other still working but injured. The razor-tipped forelegs it had were still very much in commission and sharp enough to gut him if he wasn't careful, and he needed to get around those if he wanted a chance to kill it. The head was what he needed to deal with; pulp its tiny brain and it would die.

A moment later, he had formulated a plan for that. One that would look nice and dramatic for the crowds, too.

He moved, shifting over to the left, the dreugh following his movements as he did so. He pressed along the wall of the arena, yelling at the beast as it watched him. It dithered for a moment as the crowd yelled and bellowed for it to do something, before the noise and pain pushed it too far and it charged forwards with a shriek of anger.

Carnius crouched, grabbed a handful of grit and hurled it at his enemy as it skittered towards him. It gave a hissing wail as it was blinded, stumbling and staggering away. It drew to a halt, its remaining good claw scraping over its beady eyes as it tried to clear the stinging sand, and Carnius moved. It may not have hit the wall like he had hoped it would, but it was good enough.

He darted behind it while it was distracted, vaulting onto its back. The dreugh shrieked as it realised where he was, jolting as it tried to throw him and slicing a claw towards him. Carnius grabbed onto one of the lesser arms that protruded from its back with one hand, blocked with the other, the thick chitin claws glancing off the Daedric ebony and throwing it away.

He took his opening, pulled forwards and punched.

The blow crashed into the back of its skull, snapping the shell that protected it and pulping the soft meat beneath it. The Dreugh shrieked and toppled forwards, staggering before Carnius drew his fist back again, the spikes on his gauntlet's knuckles dripping with transparent pink blood and chunks of bone and gore. He smashed it home again, and the Dreugh pitched forwards, toppling onto the sands.

As he rose the crowd roared, clambering to their feet as they bellowed their approval. He looked around at them and raised an arm in acknowledgement. He could pick out coin being passed between customers and bookies along with a few angry words here and there.

He gave a final wave as he headed back down towards the Bloodworks, making his way through the tunnel built from viscera-stained stone. He pushed open the door at the bottom, smiling as he looked at the gore-stained basin in the circular room at the bottom.

He splashed water from it onto his face, the cool and salty liquid running over his skin and bringing the dirt with it. The enchantment on the basin took effect immediately, the fatigue in his muscles seeping away and the nicks and bruises from the fight fading and closing.

Owyn was waiting for him in the Bloodworks, and the Redguard nodded the new Grand Champion his approval as he saw him.

"Good work," he said, stepping from the wall which he was leaning on. "Crowd loved that one if the noise they were making out there was anything to judge by. Here, your pay."

He handed Carnius a small purse that gave a quiet clink as it dropped into the gladiator's palm. Carnius pulled its neck open to check it, the red glint of light within showing its contents to be rubies.

"Should be a thousand Septims' worth of them in there," Owyn said. "Easier to carry than that many coins."

"Thanks," Carnius said as he pocketed it.

"Of course," Owyn said, the Redguard stepping through into the rest of the damp innards of the Bloodworks. There were a few gladiators lounging about, practicing against dummies or sparing against each other with wooden weapons. "Hey, pit dog!"

The Argonian he addressed looked up from where he was expecting a shield, and a clawed hand picked up a flail.

"You're on in two minutes, pit dog," Owyn said. "Head up to entrance, get ready."

"Of course," the Argonian said, standing up and sliding on a helmet, heading past them. He paused as he saw Carnius. "Hey, are you…?"

"Not now, pit dog," Owyn barked. "Head up; crowd's waiting."

"Good luck, kid," Carnius added, to which the lizard-man nodded his thanks. He hurried away up the stairs, scaly tail brushing against the floor with a dry hiss. "Saw him before; was doing alright. He any good?"

"He's a quick learner, I'll give him that much," Owyn replied. "And he's survived this long. Refuses to hear that his flail's not the best weapon for the sort of brawling you get in an arena."

"If I remember right, you said the same thing about me fighting with my fists," Carnius replied. "Look how that turned out."

"You just got lucky," Owyn said.

Carnius snorted.

"What?" Owyn asked.

"Every one of us here is just a wet-behind-the-ears pit dog to you, aren't we?" Carnius asked, gesturing to the gladiators.

"Well, what can I say?" Owyn said. "That's what I all saw you as, and first impressions stick. Except for Ta'Zarna."

"Oh, and what was he?"

"A gods-damn maniac. And that never changed."

Carnius shrugged at this, and Owyn suddenly glowered.

"Arran!" he called out to a Redguard gladiator who was practising a series of combat manoeuvres with a pair of scimitars. She stopped what she was doing as the Blademaster approached. "What in the Nine's name do you call that?"

"I'll leave you to your berating," Carnius said as he stepped over to the small locker and mannequin that held most of his arena possessions. He slid off the studded leather tunic and kilt that formed the large part of his armour as the Imperial Arena's champion, and removed his gauntlets. A shirt and trousers of loose, cool and clean cotton, top dyed blue and the bottom simple black, were pulled on, and he inspected the gauntlets. They were still flecked with a few stray chunks of Dreugh-matter, and he wiped them off with a cloth, setting about oiling and cleaning them the best he could. The daedric metal that bladed his knuckles was undamaged, the hardened ebony resilient enough to withstand anything a Dreugh could throw at it and was already clean of blood; he had noticed that was always a strange trait of those bands that ran along them, as if it were somehow drinking it in.

The work did not take long, and soon enough he left, heading into the bustling streets of the Imperial City with his gauntlets safely stored away in the Bloodworks. The crowds flowed around him as he made his way along the pavements, his journey uninterrupted aside from when he was nearly sprayed by a sheet of water from a passing carriage. He halted by a street corner where a boy was standing with a bundle of scrolls under his arm, brandishing one of them like the sceptre of some king, and bellowing at the top of his lungs; "Black Horse Courier! Black Horse Courier! Get all the news you could possibly want here!"

His gaze glanced towards Carnius as he saw him draw to a halt.

"Want a copy of the Courier, mister?" he asked. "Only a Septim."

"What's it reporting on today, then?" Carnius asked.

"What everyone's talking about," the boy said. "The island that's appeared in the middle of the Niben Bay."

"Island?" Carnius asked.

"Yeah," the boy replied. "It just appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the night, with this door on it, and nobody knows why. People are worried that it's another gate from when the Hero of Kvatch stopped them last time, but nothing has come out yet."

"Let's see a copy," Carnius said, interest piqued.

"Course, mister," the boy said. "One Septim, please."

Carnius reached for the purse at his belt, and realized that the only one he had was the pouch of rubies that Owyn had given him. He took one of the precious stones out of it and handed it to the boy, who frowned.

"I don't think I can change this, mister," he said.

"Just keep it," Carnius said. "I don't need it, anyway."

"Really? Thanks, mister," the boy said with a grin, handing over a rolled up copy of the Courier. "Wow. Have a good day. Thanks."

"Not a problem," Carnius replied.

He left, heading towards the Elven Gardens district, deciding to read the scroll over some lunch at the King and Queen. The bouncer at the doorway, a grizzled Orc who had once been an adventurer if his scars were anything to go by, nodded at Carnius as he passed through the door; his clothes may have been far simpler than that of most of the upper-class tavern's clientele, lacking as it was in jewellery and ornamentation, but it was clean and there was a sack of coin at his belt, and that was enough for the hulking Orsimer.

Eating here was somewhat of a guilty pleasure for Carnius, but as he ordered a platter of bread, cheese and a few slices of cured pork, he felt he needed a good lunch, and the inn served the best in the city. He waited at the table for his order and unfurled his copy of the Courier, tracing a calloused finger under each word as he read.

**_Niben Bay Mystery Door!_**

_In a bizarre and alarming turn of events for the citizens of Bravil, the city finds itself to be the neighbour of a new landmass within the Niben Bay. The small island, no larger than fifty feet in size, is reported to have simply appeared in the middle of the bay at midnight with a flash of light, much to the surprise of the local residents. On the island itself, it is reported that a gateway, shaped like three faces, is the dominant feature, along with a number of plants that local experts from the Bravil Mages Guild have been unable to identify as anything belonging to Mundus. Fearing that it may be another incident similar to the attack that Bravil suffered during the Oblivion Crisis, Count Terentius dispatched a contingent of city guards and mercenaries to seal the area; while nothing Daedric has come out of the gate, the mercenaries who entered returned from their experience after having suffered some kind of severe shock, and reports say that their recollection of events beyond it remains somewhat incoherent. _

_Commenting on the situation, Captain-_

"Interesting read?" a voice asked from behind Carnius. The gladiator glanced up as the chair opposite him was pulled away and Her Ladyship sat.

"Interesting enough, I suppose," Carnius said, raising an eyebrow. "Can't say I expected to see you here, milady."

"I was here on some business of mine and thought I would stop off for something to eat," Her Ladyship replied. Behind her, Carnius could see her two bodyguards waiting nearby, the twins' hands resting on the pommels of their weapons "And who should I happen to see other than my favourite gladiator enjoying some lunch of his own?"

"What sort of business?" Carnius asked.

"Oh, there have been one or two trade opportunities that have recently opened up here in Cyrodiil that my own estates and people could benefit from," Her Ladyship replied. "I'm merely helping the process along the way."

"That the sort of thing nobles usually do?" Carnius asked.

"Not typically, but the territory I rule over is rather unusual," Her Ladyship said. "I need to take a more active interest in its affairs in order to ensure that things run smoothly."

She snapped a finger at a servant girl, and glanced at Carnius as she hurried towards them. "But in all honesty, I'd rather give business a rest for the moment and simply enjoy some lunch with a good friend of mine."

"What can I get you and your friend, ma'am?" the serving girl asked, bobbing a curtsey as she reached them.

"Just a luncheon platter, if you may, with sliced chicken instead of the usual pork," Her Ladyship replied. "And some wine; do you have any good vintages in your cellar?"

"We have a few bottles of Surilie Brothers' three ninety-nine, ma'am," the serving girl said. "Would that be acceptable?"

"Perfect," Her Ladyship said. "One bottle, chilled, and two goblets for Carnius and I. That will be all."

The serving girl curtseyed and hurried away to fetch her order, and Her Ladyship turned back to Carnius.

"Now, how has your time as Grand Champion been treating you so far?" Her Ladyship asked.

"Can't complain," Carnius replied, setting his copy of the Courier down on the tabletop.

"Can't complain?" Her Ladyship asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're the Grand Champion of the Imperial City Arena, with fame, gold, inns treating you to free drinks and hordes of women who are completely overwhelmed with admiration for you and you merely can't complain? You'll forgive me if I'm a little incredulous about that."

Carnius shrugged.

"Well, I suppose it's good," he said. "I'm pretty lucky to be where I am, after all."

"And yet now you're here, it isn't enough," Her Ladyship said. "Tell me, Carnius, what lies in store for you now that you're actually Grand Champion?"

"Training, the occasional match, that sort of thing," Carnius said. "What I did before, really."

Her Ladyship nodded.

"You were perfectly happy being a gladiator before you become Grand Champion," she said. "So why the sudden change in heart?"

Carnius was quiet for a moment, leaning back in his chair before he said; "I liked doing all this gladiator stuff back when I was working towards something. I had…I had purpose, a goal. Something to achieve."

Their conversation was interrupted for a moment as the serving girl Her Ladyship had talked to earlier set down a few trays with food, along with the bottle of wine in ice and a pair of goblets.

"Enjoy your meal," she said with a curtsey, disappearing a moment later to deal with a customer."

"Go on," Her Ladyship said, pouring a goblet of wine and passing it to Carnius.

"Well, now I'm here I don't really have anything to work towards. I've won," Carnius said. "I kind of feel like…what's that term sailors use? When there's no wind?"

"Doldrums, I believe," Her Ladyship said.

"That's the one," Carnius said. "Doldrums. It's like that. Before, there was a breeze, wanting to make it to Grand Champion, but now I'm actually the Grand Champion, it's gone. I'm just drifting. I don't have any direction now."

"There must be something for you to do, I'm sure," Her Ladyship said.

"Well, there's talk of getting the Arena over in Kvatch going again now that the city's beginning to get back on its feet," Carnius said. "I figured that I could probably help there; got experience in this, after all."

"I've heard much that same, but in all honesty, how long will that take?" Her Ladyship asked. "After all, they still have to worry about how well stocked their granaries are and if people are going to bother trading with them; the good people of Kvatch will have a few more pressing matters to deal with before they can make time for gladiators and circuses, I believe."

She took a sip of her wine.

"So," she said. "You want something better to do with your life, then. A new goal, perhaps. Why not simply leave the Arena and do something else?"

"Look, I've said before, it isn't like that," Carnius said. "You can't just up and go."

"I'm well aware of what you said, Carnius, but it simply makes no sense to me," Her Ladyship said. "It seems to me that it's for the best if you have yourself a fresh start, but you seem to be quite insistent on staying there."

Carnius shrugged, ripping a hunk of bread from the platter before him and taking a bite.

"Tell me, Carnius," Her Ladyship said. "Would you call yourself a free man?"  
"What sort of question is that?" Carnius asked with a frown. "Of course I would."

"I see," Her Ladyship said. "Then it seems to me, Carnius, that for a self-proclaimed 'free man' you wear an awful lot of chains. You don't wish to leave the Waterfront despite the fact that it's a gods-forsaken pool of filth-"

"Hey!" Carnius managed.

"And you will defend said gods-forsaken pool of filth despite the evidence that piles up to paint it as such," Her Ladyship continued. "And you choose to linger at the Arena for no discernable reason even though it's clear that you are simply wasting your time there."

She shook her head.

"What in the name of all the gods that have ever been are you _doing_, Carnius?"

"And why do you care?" Carnius asked.

"I suppose it's because I invested a great deal of time and effort in you," she said. "And I've come to care about you as more than just a mere investment as well. But if you want to sit here in your doldrums and spend the rest of your life doing nothing of worth simply because you feel obliged to then I suppose there isn't much I can do about it."

Carnius shrugged as he chewed on a mouthful of salted pork and bread.

"Look," he said. "I need to stay here, alright? It's what's expected of me."

Her Ladyship was quiet for a moment, before she said; "Perhaps you are right, Carnius. All I'm saying is that you should keep your options open."

Her gaze fell on the open copy of the Courier that was resting by Carnius' plate.

"Speaking of openings, I see you've heard about that doorway and mystery island," she remarked.

"It's an interesting read, I'll give it that," Carnius said. "You think it might be another Oblivion gate like the ones that we got in the Crisis?"

"Call it a hunch, but I'm not certain," Her Ladyship replied. "There are no hordes of ravening Daedra spilling forth, for a start."

"Maybe," Carnius said. "Still, the people who did go through got a shock from something in there. Not sure if anybody else is going to be following through."

"I would beg to differ," Her Ladyship replied. "I have a feeling that there are going to be a great number of people doing quite the same thing."

"Really?" Carnius asked. "Who would that be?"

"Adventurers, I would guess," Her Ladyship said. "People seeking fame, riches and glory. But others too; those who want a fresh start, or run where people aren't going to follow, where they can leave their old lives behind. You always get souls like that."

Conversation turned as they ate and drank, meandering through various subjects, and Carnius found he was enjoying himself. Considering the vast gaps between their backgrounds, he had somehow felt that he and Her Ladyship would have no common ground. But despite this, the conversation was enjoyable, flowed on its own accord and Her Ladyship seemed to be having an equally good time. If anyone from his local home on the Waterfront could see him now they would either be amazed or outraged.

"I'm afraid I really must be leaving," Her Ladyship said some time later, just as she was finishing the last of her wine. "As much as I've enjoyed talking to you there is still a good deal of business that needs attending to."

She smiled at him as she stood.

"We should meet up again, sometime," she said. "I'll send a courier to find if you if I'm in the Imperial City again."

"Of course," Carnius said, heading towards the door. Her Ladyship fell into step behind him, her two bodyguards following behind. "I'd like that, I reckon."

He pushed open the door, and allowed Her Ladyship through into the street. She waited for him on the pavement for a moment as he stepped through.

"Well, I suppose this is where we part ways," she said. "I hope you find some kind of calling, Carnius. I really do."

"Thanks," the gladiator said. Her Ladyship curtseyed him with a smile that seemed to mock what she was doing, and swept away up the street. Carnius watched her go for a few moments. Then he returned back to the inside of the King and Queen, found their table and picked up his copy of the Black Horse Courier so he could do some more reading on this doorway.


	6. Through the Looking Glass

Chapter 6-Through the Looking Glass

The last person that Carnius wanted to see at the moment was down in the Bloodworks as he entered them. Practising a feint of some kind with his huge scimitar, Ta'Xarna's pads were skittering and hissing against the stone floor as he moved on the balls of his feet as he swung the curved blade with a whoosh of movement. He saw Carnius and grinned, bringing the blade up so that its tip pointed towards the ceiling.

"Carnius!" he called. "I did not expect to see you here just yet. What are you doing?"

"Just getting some things of mine," the gladiator replied. "Don't mind me."

Ta'Xarna shrugged and went back to his practise, slicing a figure of eight in the air before him as he whirled the scimitar around. Carnius let him work, heading to the chest and mannequin where his things were kept. His first action was to slide his champion's raiment off its place on it rack, and place it into the pack he had dumped at his feet. Noticing what he was doing, Ta'Xarna halted his practice, frowning at Carnius.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Carnius paused as he unlocked the chest that stored his gauntlets. He had really been hoping to avoid this conversation.

"Getting some things together," he said, not looking up at the Khajiit.

"And putting them into a backpack," Ta'Xarna said. "You are travelling?"

"Yeah," Carnius said. Overhead, noise muffled by the thick stone, he could hear the faint, dull roar of a cheering crowd. "I'm going away for a while. I'm not sure how long, yet."

"Leave?" Ta'Xarna asked. "But you are Grand Champion."

"And that's why I want to leave," Carnius said.

"But you can't just _go_," Ta'Xarna protested. "The Arena needs its champion. And you're that champion."

Carnius shook his head.

"That's the problem," he said. "Look, what does every gladiator here, every pit dog and brawler and all the others want to do once they join up?"

"Become Grand Champion, of course," Ta'Xarna said.

"Exactly," Carnius said. "And here I am. Grand Champion. I've achieved the goal, I've won, I came out on top, and I hate it."

This earned him a raised eyebrow.

"Why?"

"For a start, I had to kill Agronak," Carnius said. "And as much as I've been trying to put that behind me I'm still having trouble doing that when I have to come in here every day and see where he used to be. And now I'm here, I've got no goal. Nothing keeping me here. I'm just going to have to sit around and kill time until somebody kills me. I need a fresh start, Ta'Xarna, and I need to go somewhere where nobody will try and follow me. I need to do something new."

Ta'Xarna was quiet for a few moments, before he said; "Khajiit thinks he sees."

"You do?"

"Think so," Ta'Xarna said. "And Khajiit does not think he could stop you if he wanted to."

"Alright," Carnius said. "Thanks, Ta'Xarna."

"It is no problem," the Khajiit rasped. "You are good friend for Khajiit."

Carnius extended a hand, but Ta'Xarna simply grabbed him in a hug, a tuft of fur on the tips of his large ears brushing against Carnius' cheek. The Grand Champion nearly staggered before he hugged Ta'Xarna back. It was broken a few moments later.

"You will be coming back, yes?" the Khajiit asked.

"Honestly, I've got no idea," Carnius said. "Maybe."

"Then where are you going? Khajiit might need to find you."

"That doorway in the Niben Bay," Carnius said.

"The one that the Courier says has that strange land behind it that drives people mad?" Ta'Xarna asked. "Are you sure?"  
"As I said," Carnius said. "I need a fresh start. I'll see what I can make of that place."

"If you are certain," Ta'Xarna said. He shrugged. "I wish you the best of luck, my friend. And you will be welcome back here in the Arena if you decide to return, of that I will be certain."

"Thanks, Ta'Xarna," Carnius said with a smile. "I'll miss you, my friend."

"And me you," Ta'Xarna said. "Now go, my friend. Go and visit the land that makes everybody go mad. Perhaps Khajiit will follow one day; he would fit in nicely."

Carnius grinned at him, placed his gauntlets into his backpack and left.

The journey to Bravil had been a pleasant one, in its own, rather unexciting way. Carnius had taken one of the Imperial mail coaches that jolted and rumbled between the cities, delivering passengers and letters as they went, and had spent the last three days enjoying the journey. It was fairly slow, and while the two brawny carthorses that pulled it moved faster than a man could walk, it was certainly not a match for the speed of a single rider, and the horse of the Legionary that guarded it never had to move faster than a canter.

Along with the driver and the soldier guarding it, Carnius shared the ride with a young alchemist who had just graduated from the Arcane University and was visiting her aunt in the city, and a Nord with aspirations towards becoming a merchant. They were pleasant enough company, though Carnius was carefully vague about what he was doing, but much of the conversation was occupied by the doorway in the bay; the alchemist was determined to collect some of the samples of its bizarre flora to present to the university, but much of the talk was of the people who had returned from it in the past week, every one of them having been driven mad. That news had been almost enough to deter Carnius, but he was determined to see this through; for some reason that he couldn't quite explain, he wanted to visit that door, to go through and see what lay on the other side. He was determined to.

The carriage rumbled to a halt at the gates of Bravil, where the bridge that linked the town to the rest of the land met the road. Carnius clambered down as the coach driver set about dealing with its cargo and the horses, staying only long enough to pay the man before he left.

To his east was nothing of interest to him, only hilly wilderness, but to his west the entire Niben Bay sprawled out before him, the vast expanse of water iron-grey as it reflected the cloudy sky. He could see an island sitting in the centre of it, sharing the water with a number of fishing boats that were scattered across the lake, bright light glowing from some unseen source on the miniature isle. At the bottom of the slope that lead down to the shore was a small collection of huts next to a pier, several rowing boats tethered to it.

On the porch of one of the huts, a Bosmer with greying hair was reclining on a rocking chair and smoking a pipe, and a single eye opened as he saw Carnius approach.

"Greetings, traveller," he said with a nod to Carnius. "What do you need? Fresh fish? Bait and tackle? Line and hooks?"  
"Actually, I was hoping I could hire a boat," Carnius said.

"A boat?" the Bosmer asked. "What for?"

"I'm hoping to get to that island," Carnius said, pointing out to the small chunk of land in the centre of the bay.

"Oh, you're one of those, eh?" the bosmer asked. He pulled himself to his feet with a grunt of effort. "Well, if you've got a deathwish then I suppose it's not my place to stop you. Be ten septims to ferry you across, Imperial."

Carnius shrugged and handed over a small handful of coins to the Bosmer, who lead him along the pier to a rowing boat. Carnius slung his pack into its bottom and climbed in, the Mer following suit, pulling out a set of oars with wrinkled and calloused hands and setting a steady stroke to push them across the water. The journey only took a few minutes and lacked conversation, and the elf pulled the boat up next to a pontoon on the island, bid Carnius farewell and pulled it away back to the bay's far shore.

A man in the uniform of one of the city's guards was waiting for him, his sword sheathed and his helmet nowhere to be seen, and Carnius raised a hand to greet him as he approached. The air here was hot and damp, greasy with muggy warmth despite the clouds that hid the sun, and Carnius could already feel sweat creeping down his neck.

"Hail," the guard called as Carnius approached. "You're here for the doorway, I'm guessing."

"That I am," Carnius said. He frowned as he saw that the guard's blade was made from barbed and bladed ebony, no doubt Daedric in origin. He wondered where he got such an expensive and rare weapon from on the mere pay of a watchman.

"Thought so," the guard said. "You'll want to talk to Captain Prentus about that; he can fill you in. He's just up the pathway."

He gestured to a small path between two thickets of bushes whose long, vine-like branches had wound around each other to form ropes of some kind, tipped with flowers that somehow bore an unsettling resemblance to a grinning skull. To his left, what looked like a gigantic mushroom towered a good ten feet in the air, thick trunk twisted and contorted so its bulbous head faced down onto Carnius himself.

A buzzing sounded next to him as he walked up it, and he glanced over to see an insect hovering next to him, examining him with three faceted eyes, suspended in the air by a trio of wings that span around above its head. He waved at it and it darted away into the undergrowth.

Carnius stopped at a large canvas tent that stood on one side of the pathway, and glanced in. A couple of men in guard's uniform were talking to each other and Carnius called; "There a Captain Prentus in here?"

"That would be me, friend" one of the guards said as he glanced up at Carnius. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm here about this doorway," Carnius said. "I heard you could help me."

"I see," Prentus said. He glanced back at the other guard. "We'll talk later, Gyrus."

He stepped out of the tent, and nodded to Carnius.

"Walk with me, friend," he said, setting out along the path. Carnius fell into step next to him as they headed up towards what looked like steps leading up to a stone platform. "What's your name?"

"Carnius Hackelt," Carnius replied. "Formerly of the Imperial City."

"Captain Gaius Prentus," the guardsman replied. "Just call me Gaius."

"So, Gaius, what exactly is this doorway?" Carnius asked as they began to climb the stairs. "I mean, what does it look like?"

"See for yourself," Gaius replied as they reached the top.

It was a statue, of sorts, carved from veined grey stone that was flecked with mold in the shape of three heads all conjoined at one eye in a manner that made Carnius' skin crawl. At its centre where the edge of the two outermost foreheads met was a cleft, as if an axe had been driven through the crown and the water stain that flowed down from the divide's nadir was a trail of blood. Each bearded face held a different expression; the left a mirthful smile, the right a vicious snarl and the centre was opened in a scream or a roar, a bright ball of soft-edged light glowing from it. As Carnius looked up at the central pair of eyes, he couldn't shake the feeling that the carven pupils were staring at him.

"There it is," Gaius said. "It appeared about a week and a half ago, now, and me and the rest of the Stonetakers were sent by the Count himself to guard it."

"Stonetakers?" Carnius asked.

"We earned that name in the Crisis," Gaius replied. "We had to fight our way through an Oblivion Gate that was threatening Bravil, took the Sigil Stone that was sustaining it." He tapped the head of spiked mace of black and crimson steel that rested at his belt. "I took this mace here from a Dremora Lord, of all things. But we've been guarding this place to deal with anything that tries to come through."

"And what has been coming through?" Carnius asked.

"So far, only the people who went in," Gaius said. "And none of them have been right in the head when they come back."

"I heard as much," Carnius nodded, looking at the gate. There was greenery on either side of it, he saw, the left's dominated by garish and bright flowers, the right by large, drooping mushroom and fungi, all of those a dismal grey-brown in colouration. "Nobody's come back sane?"

"Not one," Gaius replied. "We generally get the more harmless ones off the island and to the local chapel where someone can look after them, but the violent ones have to be dealt with rather more severely. Doesn't help that half of those ones seem to all be heavily armed mercenaries and adventurers."

"I'm guessing that there are a lot of those," Carnius said.

"A fair number," Gaius replied. "There's also been quite a lot of people who've come here because they feel like they've been…called."

"Called?" Carnius said.

"That's the only way I can describe it," Gaius said. "A lot of people have arrived here because of some kind of compulsion; just turned up because they felt called to this place somehow. People looking for purpose, I'd say. A lot of them had no real idea why they were considering coming here, but felt they had to go anyway; there was a High Elf who had come all the way from Chorrol here just a few days ago, and he hadn't even heard of the doorway. Just felt he had to go east for some reason, and found his way here."

Carnius nodded.

"I'm guessing you're going in there for the chance for gold," Gaius said, glancing up and down at Carnius, clad as he was in his armour and carrying a backpack filled with supplies.

"Not quite," Carnius said. "One of those ones hoping for a second chance, I guess. I just thought I'd go prepared."

He tugged at the backpack's straps.

"Well, no more time to waste," he said. "I'm going in."

"Best of luck to you in there," Gaius said, extending a hand. "I'd rather you didn't go in at all, but it isn't really my place to stop you. If you have to, then I suppose you have to."

"Thank you," Carnius replied as he shook Gaius' hand.

He bunched his hands into fists, the leather pads around the palms of his gauntlets creaking, set his teeth and headed into the portal's yawning, hungry maw.


	7. Fringe

Accidentally misspelled the word 'contorted' as 'contortured' in this chapter. Part of me now wants to start a campaign to get that word in the dictionary…

Chapter 7-Fringe

The first sensation was one of pain. Pain as every atom of his being was ripped apart. Pain as they made the transition between one plain of reality and another. Pain as they assembled themselves with a boom of displaced air back into the form they made up.

Carnius cursed, stumbling forwards and falling on his hands onto a floor of cold stone, lit by the harsh blue-white light of that portal behind him. He rested there for a moment, gasping for breath in lungs that were raw from the shock of being unmade and reformed with such violent suddenness.

"How very dignified," a voice that dripped with good breeding and contemptuous class remarked. Carnius raised his head, breath still ragged, to see a balding man with grey hair and a hooked nose sitting behind a desk of thick oak, a jacket of black velvet covering an embroidered red silk shirt. The gladiator pulled himself to his feet and dusted himself down a little. "The floor is quite clean, you know."

"Fine then," Carnius said, looking around the room he was. It was small, at most a dozen square feet in size, made of grey stone. Its only furnishing was the desk, topped with dark green leather, and two chairs on either side.

"Please, take a seat," the man behind the desk said. Carnius sat, placing his pack by his side and noticing the metronome on its leather surface, the thin metal arm swinging back and forth between two faces, one which snarled and one which smiled. "I imagine you're here about the door."

"I suppose I am," Carnius said, still looking around the room. "Who exactly are you?"

"I am Haskill, the Chamberlain to the Lord Sheogorath," the man replied. "And currently laboured with the most arduous duty of serving as the greeter to those who decide to come through his doorway."

"And where exactly is this place?" Carnius asked.

"We are on the borders of the Shivering Isles," Haskill said. "Beyond this room is the Realm of Sheogorath, the Prince of Madness and the Lord of the Never-There."

"Right," Carnius said. "Sheogorath…he's one of the Daedra Princes, isn't he?"

"What an astute act, to remember a piece of lore widely known to just about all the people of Nirn," Haskill replied. "I'm sure you must be so proud of that. And before you ask, this doorway is an invitation, and that is all; it poses no threat to Mundus and no compact has been violated. All it seeks to do is allow people entry and egress to and from the Isles."

"What about the other people who came through here?" Carnius asked. "The ones who came out mad."

"They entered this realm and were ill-prepared for it," Haskill replied. "Their minds are now my lord's property."

"Can they be cured?" Carnius asked.

"Cured?" Haskill raised an eyebrow. "You talk of them as if they are diseased. Their minds simply exist in another state of being, now. That is all. They may one day be reverted to their original state, they may not. But there is no simple 'cure'."

"So why this invitation?" Carnius asked.

"My master seeks a mortal to act as his champion," Haskill replied. He looked Carnius up and down, surveying the grizzled and scarred gladiator. "As to why, I do not know, and seeking to divine such reasoning is a fool's errand."

"Right," Carnius said. "So what happens if I choose to go on through the Isles?"

"Who can say?" Haskill asked. "There is always choice, wherever you go, and the Realms of Madness are no different in such regard. But if you choose to pass through the Gates of Madness, perhaps Lord Sheogorath will find you of use."

He steepled his fingers and leant back in his chair.

"So," he said. "Will you enter, or will you leave? And do make up your mind quickly; I have not got all day."

"I'm going in," Carnius said, resisting the urge to glower at the man.

"Excellent," Haskill said. He slid a folded parchment across the table, and added; "This map should also be of use to you if you succeed in passing through the Gates of Madness. Good luck."

He stood from the chair and walked away, fading from view as he walked towards the far wall and leaving Carnius alone in the room.

"Hold on!" Carnius protested. "There's no door to get out of here."

He looked around the room, frowning.

"Damn posh types," he muttered. "This some kind of joke?"

The walls stirred. Carnius blinked as a wave of tiny movements rustled across the stone, and hundreds of bright blue wings bloomed out from them. A great flock of butterflies burst out of the ceilings and walls, flapping around him as they formed a trail of colourful insects that flew towards the sky. They went sunwards, and Carnius frowned as he watched them go with the realisation that the walls had simply disappeared.

The landscape around him was alien in every way that he could possibly imagine. He was on the top of a hill, and the ground around him was jagged and rolling, as if the bones of the soil had snapped upwards but failed to break the skin, or the soil had suffered some great tectonic seizure that sent fissures and hills rumbling upwards in violent spasms. Where trees would have grown, instead colossal fungi of impossible vastness covered in thick rubbery skins snaked and wound towards the sky, thick trunks cavorting over expanses of ground. Cloying and thick undergrowth spread beneath the cyclopean mushrooms, some of it blooming with bright flowers while other had heads that trailed vines of a pestilential brown; some seemed to be normal trees and ferns that he recognised from Cyrodiil, but others were overgrown and bloated fungi or strange plants that had a peculiarly fleshy quality to them. There was the sound of birds calling and insects chirruping from the plants around him, chittering and hooting and shrieking of all volumes and pitches.

In the distance he could see what looked to be a massive wall of black basalt rising from the ground over the other side of a valley, great ramparts shining slick in the sun that shone bright upon it. There was a cobbled pathway down from the top of the hill Carnius was on, lined on either side by broken and toppled pillars, and as he set off down it, he found the air here had that same damp, breathless quality that it had on that island in the Niben Bay.

With nowhere else to go, Carnius set off downhill along the path. He kept a wary eye on the greenery around him as it rustled and shifted, and part of him couldn't help shake the feeling that there was something in the plants, or perhaps the plants themselves, that was preparing to leap out at him.

The first being that he met in the Shivering Isles that was not Haskill then tried to kill him.

He met it as the path reached a dip in the landscape, path roofed by roots one of the immense, twisted mushroom trees that had its head crowned by twisted and contorted branches that reached towards the sky like broken fingers. It was an ugly, froglike creature that was squatting in a puddle beneath the massive plant's underside, and a flat, jowly head set between hunched shoulders turned to face him. It gave a guttural growl, limp lips wobbling with the noise to expose brown teeth, and raised an axe and shield of crude pig-iron and splintered wood.

With a baying noise, it charged, axe raised, ready to swing down and split Carnius' skull. The gladiator relaxed his stance, raised his hands and waited for it to reach him. This was what he had been doing for fifteen years, and compared to some enemies he had fought, this creature was child's play. The axe was in its right hand, he noticed, the shield in its left, and it wore no armour. He knew what to do.

The weapon swept down and Carnius sidestepped to its right. His left hand shot out and closed around its wrist, stumbling it as he turned and used his grip with his left hand as a cantilever with his shoulders and stepping forwards to slam his clenched fist into the side of its skull. With a crunch of bone, it collapsed, side of its skull caved in and leaking blood.

Carnius breathed the damp air heavily for a few moments as his body called for air in anticipation of yet more combat, adrenaline pounding in his head. He scanned the area, but could find no more of its companions, and took a few deep breaths to try and still the hammering of his heart as it pumped oxygen throughout his body.

Once it had calmed somewhat, he set off again, skirting around the puddle that had formed beneath the tree's roots. For a moment, he paused as he saw the pale yellow of the mushroom tree's undersides, where trunk began the metamorphosis into roots; thousands of semi-regular bumps, in the rough shape of a square rose from its underside, each one of them dimpled and slick with damp from the air. Carnius peered at it for a moment, and the started as he realised what they were. Teeth. Thousands and thousands of teeth, all of them somehow growing from the underside of this tree.

He shook his head, continuing along down the pathway as it began to wind its way uphill, the greenery beginning to thin out. Part of him was considering turning from this bizarre and exotic place, where the only people he had met so far were some kind of fat Argonian that wanted to kill him and a snooty toff. The thoughts trailed off as the path began to dip once more and he saw a building in the distance, a construction of sturdy white stone without any window or doorway he could see. As he approached, more details became clear; carvings in a language that he couldn't read adorned it in a manner that seemed more like the randomly splashed slogans of graffiti than the work of any stonemason. As he rounded the other side, he saw its doorway, a portal of thick brass with its centre shaped like the mouth of a woman, face contorted in a scream or a snarl. There was a strange humming in the air around it, and Carnius extended a cautious hand to see if it would swing open. For a moment, his vision flashed black and there was a screaming in his ears before he stumbled back. He let it be and continued down the road.

As rocks began to rise up on either side of him, the road forked. There was a signpost, and Carnius stopped to read it. At best, it was cryptic and at worst, downright useless; the one pointing to the left pathway read 'The Gardens of Flesh and Bone' and the one to the right 'Passwall'. The other four markers on it, however, seemed to point to no path in particular, and simply read 'Rage', 'Lust', 'Pride' and 'Despair'. After a few moments of deliberation, Carnius took the right pathway, deciding that this Passwall place sounded the most like civilisation of some kind.

His guess was right; less than fifty yards along the path the rocky walls that had started to rise receded, and building with a thatched roof and plastered walls came into view, part of it straddling the road as an archway. He headed through it, emerging into what looked like the central square of some kind of village. It was a decrepit, swampy place, the houses all raised on stilts and the whitewash on their walls peeling from the damp, thatch on their roofs half-rotten. The place seemed deserted, and Carnius frowned.

"Anybody home?" he called.

For a moment, all he heard was the same cries and chatters of the birds and insects in the undergrowth, and he wondered if the village was abandoned. And it was then that he heard the roar.

The bellows of some immense, enraged beast, the sound hit him like a wall, and his gaze shot towards its source, up a stepped path climbing a hillside on the village's edge. Silence fell, the creatures of these Shivering Isles cowed into quiet by the noise, and Carnius turned to face it. After a moment, drawn by some kind of curiosity that he couldn't explain, he followed it up, deciding to see what the source of the noise was.

He found what he could only call an arena; there was a flat expanse of stone, shaped in a circle and ringed by small cliffs, and, the one vital ingredient that made a battle into a show, a crowd, all of them watching the two combatants. One side was nothing Carnius could call unusual, a group of adventurers of some kind, wearing and wielding a variety of armour and weapons. But their opponent, on the other hand, was something else; some kind of giant standing a good twenty feet in height, collared with iron, its head covered with a heavy helmet. One arm ended in a massive, rusted cleaver that was flecked with blood, the other in a vambrace and a great hand. Its skin seemed to be made up of patches sewn together over flesh, glowing tattoos spiralling and whirling across it before they were covered by its irons.

Carnius stepped into the small crowd of people who were watching, and they cheered as the monster picked up an adventurer and used the unfortunate man as a club to smash one of his comrades away, the broken corpse sent flying before it slammed into the massive onyx gate that the combat took place before. It roared again, the deafening noise made tinny by the helm it wore, before swinging down with its cleaver on an Orsimer who tried to slip around its flank and stab a claymore into its stomach, separating his midriff from the rest of his body in a spray of gore.

Taking advantage of the opening, a Khajiit wielding twin daggers slipped around its behind and stabbed the weapons into the back of its thigh in a bid to lame it. He was rewarded with a bellow of pain before the Gatekeeper kicked back at him, the beastman barely able to scramble out of the blow's way and scamper out of reach.

As it turned, Carnius saw the wound in its leg was simply fading from view, sealing up with only a trail of brackish blood to mark its presence. An arrow from a distant Bosmer situated at the edge of the arena sunk into its neck, where the veins should be, but the giant being merely tore it from its neck and the injury sutured itself shut.

These adventurers were good, Carnius would give them that much, working together to try and bring the thing down; the remaining ones had split into teams, following directions bellowed at them by an Orc, ones armed with spears trying to bait and distract the creature at arm's length while a few more tried to slip round its flank and take it down there.

A spear stabbed into its gut, the haft of the weapon digging deep into the organs of its stomach and the monster bellowed in pain. It stumbled back, clumsy footsteps almost flattening the Khajiit that had managed to land the blow with its daggers just a few moments ago. Finding respite, it reached to the weapon embedded into it and tore it free with a wet squelch, its haft and head dripping with viscera. The hole in its stomach beginning to close, it hefted the spear in its hand, gaze turning towards the Bosmer archer who was nocking another arrow to his bow. A moment later, accompanied to a yell of delight from the crowd, an overarm throw sent the weapon screaming into the Wood Elf and skewered him through the chest.

One of the others, an Imperial armed with a pair of swords, cried out a name and sprinted towards the fallen Mer, uncaring for the presence of his foe. A moment later, a great hand grabbed him, lifted him into the air and slammed him down on the floor with a crack. He did not rise.

If Carnius was in their position he would have already cut his losses and run; whatever healing abilities this creature possessed, it was too much for their own weapons to overcome, and even thought they were good fighters with solid tactics this creature had them outmatched. The only problem was that the giant they fought had them outmanoeuvred; they battled it with their backs to the gate, and no way out besides getting through it.

There were only four left now; the Khajiit, who had backed away, their commander and the two spear-bearers, one of them now grabbing a mace from its sling in place of his lost weapon. With a deep, rumbling growl, the massive creature advanced, footsteps thudding against the ground.

"I told you the Gatekeeper was going kill them all," Carnius heard someone in the crowd next to him remark to another spectator. "Look, he's going to finish them off right now."

The Gatekeeper, as it was called, bellowed a challenge and charged, ground shaking beneath its steps. The adventurers tried to scatter, but a swing from its cleaver slew two of them as they tried to get away, before the Gatekeeper turned and grabbed the Orc who was making a swing at it with his claymore, Mer and monster alike bellowing in fury. It squeezed, bone cracking under the pressure, and it dropped the mangled body as it advanced on the Khajiit. The beastman yowled in terror as he found his back pressed against walls, trying to back away from the Gatekeeper, and bolted away in a desperate sprint in the hope of getting around it.

A massive hand closed around his tail, swung him up into the air and swung him back down to the ground once more.

The crowd cheered and applauded as the Gatekeeper stopped what it was doing, casting around for any more enemies before simply standing still. Their entertainment gone, the crowd began to disperse back down the hill, and after a few moments Carnius was alone at its top with only a Dark Elf woman in a dress of bloodstained blue silk for company.

"Wasn't that simply marvellous?" she exclaimed to Carnius, joy written across her features. "I always feel so very proud of him when I see him do his work!"

She clapped her hands together, smiling in joy, before she looked at Carnius proper and frowned.

"You're new here, aren't you?" she asked.

"I suppose I am, yes," Carnius said.

"I thought so," she said. "I'm Relmyna Verenim, by the way. And who are you? Another pilgrim hoping for a blessing to take root? Or perhaps…are you an adventurer, like those degenerates that my darling Gatekeeper just had to deal with?" She frowned. "No, you might be dressed like one but you don't really look like one, do you. Perhaps you won't be quite so unspeakably vile as they were."

"I've never been adventuring before ma'am, no," Carnius said. "Carnius Hackelt, by the way."

"Well that's a relief," Relmyna said. She looked him up and down, before she nodded. "Then I suppose I am pleased to meet you, serjo Hackelt."

Carnius glanced at the Gatekeeper, and back at Relmyna.

"Do you mind telling me what that 'Gatekeeper' thing is?" he asked.

"Him?" Relmyna asked. "Why, he is my beloved child! He is the consummation of Sheogorath's wisdom in the womb of my genius. His birth was painful and bloody, but well worth it. From it, I made the perfect guardian; he does not rest, he does not eat, he does not allow any other than those permitted to pass and he cannot be killed."

"Who are those permitted to pass?" Carnius asked.

"Those with Lord Sheogorath's blessing, of course," Relmyna said. "You, however, do not yet possess that, I don't think."

"So how would I get past him, through those gates over on the other side?" Carnius asked. "Get to the rest of the Isles?"

"To get through those gates, you would need to get the keys," Relmyna said. "And they are sewn up within the body of my child. You would need to kill him to get them first, and you cannot kill him. It is the perfect defence, and I am a genius for conceiving such an idea."

"How would I get that blessing, then?" Carnius asked.

"It would be difficult for you," Relmyna said, looking him up and down once more. "Difficult, but not impossible. Your problem is that your soul is dull, uninspired, lacklustre. If I were to cut you open then the world would be wholly unimpressed by your uninteresting blood. You are simply too…" she paused, as if the word she was to say next was somehow taboo. "…_sane_." She shuddered.

"Right," Carnius said, somewhat perturbed by the way she talked about cutting him open.

"Still," Relmyna said. "You do have quite a remarkable musculature on you. A client of mine is looking for a someone to serve as a base for a flesh-sculpture and your muscles would be nicely suited for that. Of course, I'd need a better bone structure and that skin on you would _have_ to go, but-"

"Miss," Carnius interrupted. "I have no idea if you're complimenting me or something there, but I have one to thing to say to that. I'm not normally inclined towards assaulting people at random, but if you keep on talking about me like that then I will hurt you."

Relmyna shrugged.

"Fine then," she said, setting off down the path back down to Passwall. "Good luck getting past the Gatekeeper, by the way. You'll certainly need it if you want to get into the Isles the way you are right now."

Carnius lingered a few moments longer, watching the Gatekeeper as it nudged one of the corpses with the horny, jagged toenails of its foot. Then he began the short walk to Passwall, wondering just what he had managed to get himself into.


	8. Flesh and Bone

Chapter 8-Flesh and Bone

Carnius sipped at his ale as he looked at the diagrams on the table before him. Situated as he was in the Wastrel's Purse, Passwall's local tavern, he had been hunched over the slate for the better part of an hour as he sketched out chalk diagrams and plans for dealing with this Gatekeeper; he had often done this before key matches in his gladiator career, working out how he would deal with an opponent, using what information he had on them to try figure out how to bring them down.

So far, he knew his strategy was going to involve getting in and out of the Gatekeeper's reach; even with the magical enhancements to strength and endurance that his armour and gauntlets provided to him, he knew that if he was grabbed by the giant guardian or took one hit from that cleaver he would be dead. He had taken a leaf out of that dead Khajiit's book, and many of the diagrams he had sketched out had circular arrows to work out how he could hit it in the back of the knees and legs; laming the thing would make it far easier to kill. The only problem was the thing's regenerative abilities, and that rendered the entire exercise theoretical.

"Another ale?" Dredhwen asked from where she was leaning on the surface of the inn's bar.

"No thanks," Carnius said. "Wouldn't mind a bite to eat, though."

"Of course," the innkeeper said. "Will bread and cheese be alright?"

"Yes, that should be fine," Carnius nodded.

Dredhwen cut a few slices of bread from the loaf on the counter, along with a few cuts of hard cheese. They were arranged on a wooden platter, and carried over to Carnius.

"What's that?" she asked as she saw the slate he was working on.

"Trying to work out how I can kill the Gatekeeper," Carnius replied, tapping it. "Problem is that it's all theory at the moment."

"You're want to kill it?" Dredhwen said. "I don't think it-" she yawned, holding her hands over her mouth as she did so. "Sorry about that. I don't think it can be done."

"There's got to be a way," Carnius said. "Somehow. Spells or something, maybe. Are there any spellcasters here in Passwall?"

"Well, there's Relmyna, but I don't think that she would help you," Dredhwen said. "But you should ask Jayred Ice-Veins. He keeps saying he has a plan to kill it, but nobody will help him; he needs to go into the Gardens of Flesh and Bone, and that place is just too strange for anyone else here."

Carnius was quiet for a moment, watching her face. He could detect nothing that suggested she was making a joke.

"Where is he?" Carnius asked.

"His house is just to the southeast," Dredhwen said. "He should be out tending to his Swattle around now."

"I'll go pay him a visit," Carnius said, glancing back down at his slate. On the 'G' he had managed to form to mark out the Gatekeeper, he sketched out a rough star shape of arrows, his theoretical self darting in and out of the colossus' reach. His food and plans finished, he placed a handful of coins and his borrowed slate on the counter next to where Dredhwen had started to doze and headed out into Passwall. The damp feel of the air had receded somewhat as the sun had risen higher into the sky, burning some of the moisture away, but the clouds that muffled its glare prevented it from going in its entirety.

He found Jayred's house just a few dozen yards away from the Wastrel's Purse, the building raised up on stilts like all the others in Passwall, no doubt to protect it from flooding. He remembered what Dredhwen had said, about him being out and attending to his 'Swattle', whatever that was, and skirted around the back of the house to see what he could find there, not bothering to knock on the front door which, he noticed, had a human skull hanging on it.

He found Jayred in a patch of swampland that had been fenced off, the Nord standing next to what looked at first glance to be a moss-covered boulder. He gave Carnius a cheerful wave as he approached, and called; "I'll be with you in a moment, friend! Old Betjar here just needs sorting out."

He slapped the boulder on the side, and Carnius blinked as what he thought was stone wobbled. Six flabby legs, each tipped with webbed feet, unfolded from where they were tucked against its flank, and a wide, jowled head rose up from where it rested against the ground. Watery amber eyes looked up at Jayred, and the Nord folded his arms.

"Don't know why you're looking at me like that, girl," he said. "Go on, off you go, I've saved you a nice patch of moss to help that down and everything. C'mon, shoo!"

The creature made a noise that sounded like 'mwap', and waddled away, fat belly sliding against the swampy ground it went. Jayred watched it go and then stepped to where Carnius was leaning on the fence around his land.

"What can I do for you, friend?" he asked.

"Well," Carnius began. "I was going to see if you could help me with something, but I've really got to ask; what on Nirn is that?"

"Those?" Jayred asked. "That's me Swattle herd, that is. I farm 'em; good eating on a Swattle, and their hides are well waterproofed once you've tanned 'em. Plus they've got a nice skeleton, too."

"You farm them?" Carnius asked. He was a city boy, through and through, and while he would be the first to admit that his knowledge on animal husbandry was severely limited, he was pretty certain that all farm animals either had fur or feathers and went 'moo', 'baa', 'cluck', 'quack' or 'oink'.

"That I do," Jayred said. "Damn fine herd, too."

Carnius decided not to press that subject any further.

"So what can I do for you, friend?" Jayred asked. "You said you wanted some help?"

"The Gatekeeper," Carnius said. "I'm trying to kill it so I can get into the rest of the Isles. Drenhwed over at the Wastrel's said that you were planning to do the same. I figured we could help each other out, combine resources, that sort of thing."

"How soon do you want to deal with it?" Jayred asked.

"Soon as possible," Carnius replied. "I want to get through that gate."

Jayred grinned and clapped his hands together.

"Excellent," he exclaimed. He vaulted the fence, and clapped Carnius on the shoulder. "Just wait for me round the front of my house for a few minutes; we'll head for the Gardens of Flesh and Bone and I'll explain my plan along the way."

He emerged from his front door a few minutes later, the flaxen farming clothes he had been wearing replaced by a suit of leather armour, with a strung bow slung over his shoulder.

"You ready?" Carnius asked.

"That's right, friend," Jayred said.

"Good," the Imperial said as the pair set out up the path. "So what's this special solution you have for killing the Gatekeeper, then? Some kind of magic?"

"Magic?" Jayred asked. "I'm not like Relmyna, no. I don't believe in magic, but I do believe in bones."

"Bones, you say," Carnius said as they passed under that archway that marked the way in and out of Passwall.

"Aye, that's right," Jayred said. "Bones. Relmyna thinks that her Gatekeeper can't be killed, that no power in Oblivion or Nirn can bring it down, but if I know one thing, it's that anything can be killed by the bones of its own kind." He tapped his skull, as if to emphasise his point. "There's power in those things, even if nobody but me realises it. Enough power to kill the Gatekeeper, certainly."

Carnius nodded as the path they took began to wind up a hill, deciding that he might as well humour the Nord; he didn't have any better ideas for killing the thing, after all.

"So I'm guessing that there are Gatekeeper bones in these gardens, then," Carnius said.

"Aye," Jayred replied. "Only problem is, the Gardens are guarded; skeletons, shambles, that sort of thing. Anybody who goes in gets attacked by them in minutes."

"Well, you're the bones expert," Carnius said. "If you get these Gatekeeper bones, I'll hold them off for you."

"Exactly what I had in mind," Jayred said. "Don't worry, I know where it is. Though if you want to hold them off, I'd recommend you get your weapons out of your pack now, friend. They aren't going to wait around for you in there."

"I'm already armed," Carnius replied, raising a clenched fist to show the wicked spikes of red and black on the knuckles of his gauntlets. Jayred grinned.

They stopped before wall of thick white stone, ramparts weathered smooth by time out in the elements. A door was set into it, made from solid iron and carved with pictures of bones, skulls and organs. Carnius could hear a faint, regular thudding on the edge of his hearing, seeming to come from within the garden itself.

"Give me a hand with this, will you?" Jayred asked, rapping his knuckles on a thick bar that was swung down across the gateway. Carnius complied, taking a moment to dump his pack by the side of the door so that it wouldn't impede him in a fight in the garden itself and to check the two waterskins filled with a healing and a stamina potion were in position at his belt. The two of them heaved the bar up and swung open the door.

Carnius had not been quite sure of what to expect from the Gardens of Flesh and Bone, but he had certainly not thought it would be quite so literal in its adherence to its title. There were no plants in here, or at least nothing that he would call a plant, but it was certainly full of life.

Human eyes in the centre of fleshy petals turned on muscled stalks to stare at the newcomers as they made their way along the pathway that ran through the garden. There was a bush that had thousands of tiny blood vessels for its branches, each one swollen and engorged with sanguine fluid. Another plant seemed to be made from nothing more than nerves spreading and flowering from its root which was, Carnius noted, a large mass off grey brain matter half-embedded in the ground. Despite the fact that he was well used to the gore and viscera of the arena, had seen men and women alike gutted on its sands and had done the deed himself more than once, Carnius began to feel nausea rising from his stomach.

At the centre of the garden, a massive tree rose from the ground, one that seemed to be put together from thousands of bones; he could see skulls, femurs, vertebrae, the individual digits of fingers all meshed together to form its trunk, with yet more branching out over his head. From it, that same regular drumbeat sounded, and Carnius peered through the gaps in them to see a heart suspended by strands of muscle in the very centre of it, swelling and shrinking in time to that beat.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Jayred asked. "The tree of bones; the very centrepiece of the Gardens. Now come on, friend. We need to get to the Gatekeeper's body, and this place's guardians are going to wake up soon."

Carnius nodded in agreement, and he followed Jayred as the Nord headed towards one of the walls of white stone that surrounded the garden. The Gatekeeper skeleton was waiting for them, massive sun-bleached bones sat upon a throne set into the garden's wall, a dead king holding sway over a macabre court.

"Right," Jayred said, rubbing his hands together and approaching the throne. "Let's get to work."

Carnius glanced behind them, back along the pathway that ran through the grisly garden to see if anything was approaching as the Nord climbed up on the throne. For a moment, it seemed all clear, and then three figures came into view. Sun gleamed off bare skulls, and flesh-stripped digits clutched rusting weapons, and the three skeletons advanced.

One with a mace, one with a sword and shield and one with a claymore, Carnius noted, raising his hands to a position that would guard him from the three enemies. They were undead, so wouldn't be particularly intelligent, and seeing as they were skeletons, they wouldn't be as hardy as most other types of the walking dead either. Carnius could deal with one without too much trouble, he thought. Three, however, would complicate things.

Whatever rudimentary intelligence that they had was enough to direct them to fan out as they approached in an attempt to flank him. Carnius watched them move, noting how the one with the claymore was ahead of its fellows, and stepped into action. Three swift steps brought him within the undead creature's reach, and as he expected its swung its claymore at him, the long blade swooping towards him at a horizontal. He moved to his right, left palm pressing down onto the flat of the blade and jarring its tip to the ground, stumbling the skeleton. His right fist crashed into its ribs, knocking it back and sending lightning-bolt cracks snaking across the bone. It stumbled away, and he saw the one with the mace pressing forwards. He stepped into its reach before it could swing, and an uppercut slammed into its jaw with enough force to send its skull, unfettered by sinew, tumbling away, bones clattering to the ground.

The one with the sword and the shield hung back as the skeleton armed with the claymore regained its footing behind him, clacking its jaw together in a challenge. They were going to charge him together, unless Carnius did something.

He threw himself towards the one with the claymore, deciding to get himself between the skeletons and Jayred. Surprised by the sudden manoeuvre, the skeleton tried to block, but bare hands were a far cry from conventional weapons, and the reinforced vambrace that guarded the back of his left wrist pushed its blade away. The back of his right hand slammed across its jaw, the ebony spikes slashing across the bone and gouging four parallel lines across where its face should be. Its stumbled back, thrown from the impact, and Carnius slammed his boot into its spine, sending it tumbling into its fellow.

At the end of the path, between the greenery, something else appeared behind the two toppled undead. It was a large beast, easily a good head taller than he was, a crude construction of bones chosen at random that were held together with twine and wire. The head of what he guessed was a mer or human glared at him with empty eye sockets, and a lower jaw taken from an Argonian opened and clacked shut as a challenge. It raised its hands, each one tipped with wicked talons, and charged, ignoring the skeletons it leapt over.

Carnius blocked its first swing, stepped out of the reach of the second. He tried to step round to its side, where its shoulder and back were open, but it recovered its footing too quickly and the counter he launched was blocked by it throwing its own wrist up. It was enough to stumble him, and he cursed as its other pair of claws slashed into his right shoulder, deep gashes running red. He gritted his teeth, right hand snapping out to grab its own shoulder and forced it into a bow. The back of his left hand smashed into its skull and drove it to its knees, and a second blow snapped the bone in its entirety.

He screamed as a wave of chill burst from it, frost snap-freezing across his skin and armour. He stumbled away from the body as it became coated in ice crystals along with the ground around it, cursing as pain ravaged across him. He could feel hot blood seeping from where the skin froze to the metal and tore, and he fumbled at his belt for the waterskin filled with healing potion. He popped off the stopper and took a deep drink, feeling the wounds begin to heal and the flow of blood slow.

He was panting for breath as the two remaining skeletons rose, and he could see more skeletons and another construct approaching them. He was good, but he was realist; even with his skill, he wouldn't be able to take down all of those. And it wouldn't matter how many he would take down before he was overwhelmed, he would fall all the same.

"Jayred!" he called over his shoulder. "We need to get out of here, now!"

"Fine!" Jayred replied, his bones filmed with what looked like the legs and arm bones of the deceased Gatekeeper. "I've got what we need."

Carnius barrelled forwards, throwing his shoulder into the breastbone of one of the undead that tried to stop him and knocking it to the ground, Jayred in his wake. The next few moment dissolved into an insane blur of blocks, parry and counters as Carnius battered a path to the gate through the undead, ignoring the nicks and cuts that assailed him. At one point a mace slammed into his stomach, the impact almost enough to double him over, but he drew upon some reserve of bloody-mindedness and strength and shoved the offending skeleton away, all too aware that the gates were in sight. He just had to hope that his Arena raiment would have absorbed the worst of the impact for him.

He reached them, slamming the knuckles of his gauntlets into the chest of one of those bone-constructs that tried to stop him and knocking it away, and gestured to Jayred to follow. The Nord barrelled through the threshold a few moments later and Carnius followed, slamming the door shut and pulling the bar into place. They stopped outside, panting as the adrenaline began to subside, both of them leaning against the wall.

"That was amazing!" Jayred exclaimed after a few moments, raising his hand and grinning. Carnius slapped his palm, grinning. "To think you went at those things with just yer fists, too! I'd like to have you at my side in a tavern brawl, friend; you and I would be unstoppable!"

"Hah, cheers," Carnius said. He groaned suddenly and clutched his stomach, pain returning in place of the adrenaline. He doubled over, grabbing at the skin filled with healing draft and took a deep swig. After a few moments, the agony began to fade, and he stood up straight, grinning a grin with more than a few glinting gold teeth in it.

"Right," he said. "How soon can you get those arrows ready?"

"Tomorrow morning, I'd reckon," Jayred said.

"Good," Carnius nodded. "Because after that, we're going to kill the Gatekeeper."


	9. Threshold

Chapter 9-Threshold

The stars were wrong in this place.

Carnius was used to looking up at the night sky and seeing pinpoints of light against a black or blue backdrop, with perhaps fainter white light behind them. But here, it was different; the comforting and familiar orbs of Masser and Secunda were gone, and while stars still shone, they were patterned in strange and unsettling half-shapes that he could just see when he let his eyes unfocus. Behind them, crimson and purple nebulae bled light across the sky, celestial cuts and bruises, as if Kynareth had been beaten and ravaged and her corpse hung across the sky as a warning or trophy. Yet despite this unsettling wrongness in the sky, Carnius found the sight from the back of Jayred's raised porch a difficult one to look away from.

Next to him, a few lanterns burned, filled with some kind of herb in order to ward off the mosquitoes that swarmed from the swamp where the Nord kept his herd. He could hear the Swattle calling in the distance, and he was wondering if they were in any way related to the creature that he had encountered on the road earlier that day.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?" a familiar voice said from behind Carnius. He glanced up to see Jayred sit down on the chair next to him, two bottles of mead held between his fingers. He was wearing an apron for woodworking, the thick cloth covered with pale dust, and the sounds of bone being crafted had echoed out of his house the entire afternoon. He offered Carnius one of the drinks, and the Gladiator took it with a nod of thanks, pulling the cork from it and taking a swig.

"A Redguard I was sweet on use to love looking at those," Jayred said as he took a seat, glancing skywards. "She always kept saying could see patterns in them, was determined to find them. Said she reckoned you could draw power from them somehow, and wanted to work out the way to do that."

"Really? What happened to her?" Carnius asked.

"Well, she got Sheogorath's blessing and was allowed through the Gates," Jayred said. "Never heard from her since."

"You trying to follow her, then?"

"Nothing so romantic," Jayred replied. "There isn't much good pasture for Swattle here in the Fringe; the best stuff is over in Dementia, so I'm going to get my herd through and get them a new home. What about you, friend?"

"I've been…trying to get away from some things back home," Carnius said after a moment. "Make a fresh start."

"In the Isles?" Jayred asked, shaking his head with mirth. "Between you and me, Carnius, you seem pretty…you know, all together. I'm not trying to be rude here, mind, but you just don't really seem like the sort who would go there. Not sure you'd necessarily fit in, that's all."

Carnius nodded at that. Jayred had a point; it was true that he wanted to go somewhere where his fame wouldn't follow him, but it would really have been as simple as just leaving Cyrodiil. Skyrim and High Rock were always supposed to be pleasant, and Hammerfell was good if you could deal with heat. But part of him wanted to go further than that; get away from more than just the fame, but to escape the bad memories. As much as he hated to admit, there had always been a savage thrill in bloodshed and combat, an adrenaline-laced joy in the feeling of bone crunching and blood splattering underneath his knuckles. But with Agronak, there had been nothing but guilt, shame and the feeling that he had deserved no victory, as much as Agronak had wanted it to end that way. He needed to get away from all that, find something to occupy his mind.

"You ever mind that idea?" Carnius asked after a moment. "Being mad?"

"Do you ever mind being sane?" Jayred asked. "It's just the way I am. If I was unhappy about it, then I just wouldn't be that way. Simple as that, really."

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it," Carnius conceded. Something occurred to him, and he added; "Completely unrelated, I know, but do you want anything for putting me up tonight?"

"The help you've given me tonight more than makes up for it, my friend," Jayred said. "I'd be an awful Nord if I begrudged bed and a good meal to a man who I was going to be fighting and possibly dying alongside tomorrow."

"Let's hope we won't be doing any of that," Carnius said. "You sure these bone arrows of yours will work, right?"

"If there's one thing I trust in, my friend, it's bones," Jayred replied. "You keep the Gatekeeper occupied, and I'll make sure my arrows do what need to be done."

Carnius nodded.

"Good," he said. "Just make sure those shots are good ones; I doubt I'm going to be able to last against that thing for too long."

"Hah, seeing the work you did on those skeletons and shambles today, I'm sure you'll be fine," Jayred said. "Don't worry, Carnius, tomorrow you and me will be able to go to anywhere we please in the Isles."

He raised his bottle of mead, and Carnius clicked his own against it.

"To victory, my friend," Jayred said.

"To victory," Carnius echoed. "Let's hope we get it."

They drew a crowd as they made their way through Passwall. Jayred in his leather armour, his bow strung and a quiver of a few dozen bone arrows at his back, Carnius with his gauntlets, raiment and pack, his only worldly possessions.

Dredhwen was sitting outside the Wastrel's purse with her breakfast spread out on the table before her, talking to Relmyna about something, and glanced up as the two of them passed back.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"We're killing the Gatekeeper," Jayred replied. "We've found the secret."

"Secret?" Relmyna scoffed. "There's no secret, you fool. Still, seeing you two die will be entertaining. And perhaps I'll do something nice with your bones when you're dead, Jayred."

She stood from her seat, following the two of them and announcing out; "Come one, come all, Passwall! My dear child is going to kill two more imbeciles who think they can make their way onto the Isles without Lord Sheogorath's blessing!"

People began to lean out of the doors and windows of the houses, heading outside and following Carnius and Jayred as they made their way up the hill towards the gates.

"Well, no backing out now," Carnius remarked to Jayred.

They reached the top of hill, and Carnius dumped his pack on the side of the road. He checked his potion skins and cracked his knuckles, rolling his head from side to side to loosen up the muscles. Uncaring for their presence, the Gatekeeper waited by the imposing portals that were the Gates of Madness. Jayred put string to his bow and rested an arrow against it, ready to draw.

Carnius turned round to crowd, and called out; "Anyone here taking bets?"

"I am," a Redguard in purple silk finery said. "As mayor of Passwall, I'm the man for it."

"Alright," Carnius said. He pulled the purse he had from his belt out and dropped it inot the man's palm. "All this on me. Should be about two thousand Septims in there. What'll be the odds on me winning?"

"Million to one, I think," the Redguard replied.

"We'll work it out after I've won, then," Carnius said. "Jayred, let's go."

The Nord pulled the arrow tight as Carnius strode to the centre of the Gatekeeper's arena. He tried not to laugh at the bitter irony of this situation; in his bid to get away from the Arena and all its ties and memories, here he was, striding into the centre of yet another in order to perform for a crowd.

He reached the centre, and there was a snap behind him as Jayred loosed an arrow. The projectile arced over his head and buried itself in the meat of one of the Gatekeeper's brawny shoulders. Its gaze snapped towards the interlopers, and it roared, the sound a deafening wave of noise and fury that almost staggered him. With thundering steps it charged, massive cleaver raised and the ground shaking from each footfall.

Carnius dodged out of its way as it swung at him, throwing himself from the path of the immense, blood-stained blade that rested on its left hand, air whistling around its edge of blackened and gory iron. Another of Jayred's arrows stuck into its arm, eliciting a booming roar of pain and rage, and the Gatekeeper wrenched it free. The wound wasn't closing, Carnius saw as he backed out of its reach; the plan was working.

It turned to face him, and Carnius managed to yell to Jayred; "Shoot it in the legs! Lame it!" Its cleaver slashed down towards him in the next moment and he sidestepped away, the impact splitting the stone beneath it. The Gatekeeper reached for him with a massive, meaty paw, blade still embedded in the ground, and he slammed his fist into the tip of one of its fingers. The digit jerked back with a crack and Carnius backed away, Gatekeeper giving a moan of pain. It wrenched its blade free, finger snapping back into place, but it bellowed again as one of Jayred's arrows embedded itself in its thigh.

It advanced on Carnius as the gladiator backed away, the immense guardian ignoring another arrow that thudded into its back, hand and cleaver raised. Carnius had his own fists up, and he skipped back as the massive blade swung towards him, its edge slicing a thin gash across the hardened leather of the armour. As brushing as the impact was, the sheer strength behind it staggered Carnius, turning him around. The next thing he knew the Gatekeeper's massive fist slammed into his back and sent him flying.

He landed at least a dozen yards away looking up at the grey sky, breath knocked from his lungs and his head swimming. For a few moments, he lay there, head swimming and his chest aching with pain, and there was dim, muffled noise of somebody shouting abuse. He rolled his head to one side to see a Nord – Jayred? Was Jayred his name? – waving his arms and yelling at the Gatekeeper, loosing another arrow.

After a moment, he shifted an arm underneath him, grunting as pain in his ribs flared up. Gritting his teeth, he pushed up, shifting his feet underneath him, and stood. He fumbled for the waterskin of healing potion he had, ignoring some of the people in the crowd pointing at him and calling out in surprise. He popped the stopper off and drank, gulping the slightly bitter draft down and half-draining the skin, wincing as he felt his abused and ravaged ribs snap back into place. A few dribbles ran down his chin, and he wiped it with the back of his gauntlet as he clipped the container back onto his belt. The Gatekeeper was thundering towards Jayred, the Nord fleeing from the oncoming giant as it tried to reach him. In a moment, Carnius guessed its path and set into a run.

In moments, he had covered the ground between him and it, the Gatekeeper still distracted by its pursuit of Jayred. The final step was a leap as he burst into a jumping punch, leading with his left hand and pulling it away as his right slammed down with his entire bodyweight behind it; the technique was risky and left him wide open, but against a distracted opponent that couldn't counter, dodge or block it, it was devastating, especially in concert with the enhancers for strength in his gauntlets and raiment.

With the force of a meteorite striking the ground Carnius' knuckles hit the side of the Gatekeeper's knee. Jagged bone, gristle and brackish blood exploded out of the other side of the impact site and it collapsed with a ragged scream. It swiped at Carnius with its hand but the half-blind swing went over his head and he backed away. Jayred took the opportunity to embed an arrow in its head, but its thick skull and the iron helmet it wore over that protected it from a lethal hit, the projectile jutting from the helmet.

It pulled itself upwards, bone snapping back into place as Jayred fled to get distance between himself and the Gatekeeper. The broken skin resealed, bloody stains the only indicator that the injury had occurred, and the guardian construct turned to face Carnius, sweeping away the arrow embedded in its skull. It gave a low, rumbling growl, and Carnius realised what that meant. He'd hurt the thing, even if the injury had healed, and now it was personal. It wanted him dead more than anything else now.

It swung at him, but Carnius darted forwards and to its left, ducking under the behemoth's slash and getting behind it. He grabbed the shaft of one of the arrows that was embedded in its thigh and wrenched it free with spatter of black-brown blood, and he ignored the foul taste as some of it splashed onto his teeth and into his mouth. The Gatekeeper bellowed, but Carnius stabbed it home in the back of its knee, the joint buckling under the impact.

He felt something close around his arm as the Gatekeeper grabbed him with two of its fingers and hurled him away, but Carnius rolled with the impact and stood quickly; he could feel bruises forming, but this time there were no broken ribs to contend with from the earlier hammerblow punch that had sent him flying.

The Gatekeeper charged him, gait ungainly as it limped forwards. Its cleaver was raised and it swept down towards him; Carnius barely managed to throw himself out of its way, and he landed with a roll, coming up in a crouch as the Gatekeeper rounded on him. He broke into a sprint from the low, ducking under the grab it tried to seize him with and leaping up to grab at the bands of thick, cracked leather at its belt. Kicking off its ankle he hauled himself upwards, wrenching an arrow from the flesh of its back and raising it to stab at its neck. This close, he could smell the deep stench of the Gatekeeper, a stink of rotting flesh, preservative fluid, roasted meat and old blood.

The Gatekeeper's hand grabbed him, and he cursed as the grip wrenched him from its back and held him so they were face to face. It roared, the noise nought but a deafening blur of sound that battered at his eardrums like the fists of an enraged Orc, and he winced as a gust of fetid breath blasted against his nostrils. His hands were still free, above its massive fingers, and the arrow was still in his grip. He raised it and stabbed, drawing the tip along a line of stitching that ran down its wrist, the sharpened head gouging along the gap in its skin and snapping the twine that held it together.

The Gatekeeper screamed, dropping Carnius and collapsing to its knees as it fumbled for the wound, trying to somehow close it. Blood flowed from it in a thick, stinking stream, more sewage than viscera, and the tattooed runes covering its skin glowed with arcane power.

"You idiot!" Carnius heard Relmyna shriek from behind him. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?!"

"What?" Carnius yelled back as the Gatekeeper continued to roar in pain.

"You broke its containment!" Relmyna said. "Those stitches kept its element contained!"

"Element?" Carnius asked. "What element is that thing made of?"

"It's a Flesh Atronach, you fool!" Relmyna snapped as the Gatekeeper roared and bellowed, twitching and writhing with agony. "And the most powerful in existence; that stitching bound its power into its form and made it immortal, and now that binding has been broken. It's made of the element of flesh! And now that's completely uncontrolled!"

Carnius glanced back at the Gatekeeper just in time to see it explode.

Its skin bulged, stitching bursting as something swelled from beneath it. Barbed tendrils of malformed muscle and gristle rippled outwards from the fissures rent into the Gatekeeper's form, bristling with bony spines. Jaws filled with great fangs opened up, and arms and limbs tore from the Gatekeeper's form, rolling eyes of every hue opened from beneath newly-formed lids. In moments, the humanoid form of the guardian of the Shivering Isles' threshold was gone, replaced by a ravening, mewling abomination of random body parts, tendrils and fangs, all formed without any regard for reason or sanity.

Screams erupted from the crowd as the unbound power that gave the Gatekeeper its immortality breathed in the air of the Fringe, its form swelling and shrinking as great sacks were filled and emptied by the gasping of dozens of mouths. The crowd began to flee, and Carnius saw Jayred dither for a few moments.

"Get those people to safety!" he ordered, glancing back at the insane amalgamation of flesh and bone that now dominated the area before the Gates of Madness.

"What are you going to do?" Jayred asked.

Carnius picked up a bone arrow that lay on the ground beside him, the tip still bloodied from where he had rent the Gatekeeper's flesh and unwittingly unleashed its power.

"Something really stupid," he said. "But I think I know how to kill this thing."  
Jayred nodded, and turned to the crowd with a yell of; "All of you, down the hill, now! Go!"

The Grand Champion of the Imperial City Arena turned his attention back to the thing that had once been the Gatekeeper. The tendrils that had burst from its form began to sweep and coil around either side of him like serpents, but Carnius ignored it, focussing his attention on the heart of its abominable form. He could still see its iron helmet there, some final anchor of its form that gave it something that he hoped against hope was a vulnerable point. And it was only at the height of his head.

Jayred's faith in bones had better not be misplaced.

He ran, sprinting forwards as the tendrils struck towards him. Most of them missed, the Atronach still trying to coordinate its new form, and with the back of his free hand Carnius battered away one that struck for him. He heard them coil and writhe behind him as he ran, closing the distance between them as he made for the core of the beast, arrow gripped and ready to stab down like a dagger.

He ducked under a swipe from an arm tipped with razor talons as he got close, got in reach of the helmet, raised the arrow and drove it home.

It punched through the metal and buried into where he thought its brain would be. Shrieks and roars bellowed from dozens of mouths and jaws, and its limbs flailed and thrashed. The flesh that made it up began to turn translucent and ethereal before Carnius' eyes, changing from something solid to smoke and mist of pinkish hue. That was picked up by the wind and began to disperse, leaving the withered form of the Gatekeeper, nothing but torn skin clinging to bones.

Carnius took a few breaths to steady himself as he looked at the body below him, seeing the glint of two keys lying on the stone just beneath the body, one caught between a pair of ribs. He peeled away a flap of skin, grimacing at its leathery, canvas-like texture, and picked them up, looking at the two gates ahead of him.

And miles away in his crystal-topped tower, almost due east of Carnius, Sentinel sat back in his chair from where he had been watching the combat, a low whistle escaping his lips.

"Well," he remarked to nobody in particular. "Now _there's _a turnup for the books."


	10. The Bard

Chapter 10-The Bard

"Murderer!"

The word scraped from a throat that was hoarse and ragged with rage and grief, half-choked with tears. Relmyna Verenim, crouched as she was over the desiccated corpse of the Gatekeeper, looked up at Carnius through enraged eyes, features contorting into a snarl of untold fury.

"Monster!" she snarled. "You monster! Look what you've done! You killed my child! _You killed my only child_!"

She stood, hands held wide as magical power danced at her fingertips, gaze fixed with murderous intent on Carnius. Dredhwen and an Imperial Carnius didn't know grabbed her arms before she could rush forwards, and she struggled for a few moments before dropping to her knees once more. They released and she let out a low moan of grief, slumped and sobbing over the body of the Gatekeeper.

Carnius watched the scene without much in the way of sympathy for her; he found it difficult to empathise with somebody who had brought that creature into the world and who had remarked on how he would make a good sculpture.

"So Sentinel was right," a familiar voice remarked from behind Carnius. He turned to see the butler type who had greeted him, Haskill, standing not far away. It seemed he had just appeared from thin air, in the same way he had faded out of view the night before. "You _did_ kill the Gatekeeper. Most impressive."

He glanced at the two keys that Carnius still held in his hand.

"Just use those keys to open the gates whenever you so feel like it," he added. "I suppose you were probably wondering what to do with them, after all. And after that, Lord Sheogorath himself wishes to hold an audience with you."

"So I should head for New Sheoth?" Carnius asked. A momentary look of surprise flickered across Haskill's face, but the chamberlain quashed it in an instant.

"How did you work that out, I must ask," he said.

"Looked like the only big city around, so I figured it would be the capital," Carnius replied. "Like how the Imperial Council are based in the Imperial City and the Emperors were based there before them. Rulers always stay in the biggest towns, after all."

"Well, make your way there and present yourself to His Lordship at the palace, as soon as you can," Haskill said.

"Haskill!" Relmyna called from where she was slumped by the Gatekeeper's body. "This man murdered my child! He is a murderer! Have him locked up! Have him executed!"

"My apologies, Lady Verenim, but Lord Sheogorath's decree was quite clear; whoever succeeds in killing the Gatekeeper and unlocking the Gates of Madness is to have an audience with him as soon as possible," Haskill said, with a curt, slight bow in Relmyna's direction.

"What?" Relmyna asked, eyes filling with rage. "He…he _planned_ on somebody killing my child?"

"Those were his orders," Haskill replied.

"How dare he?" the Dunmer seethed. "First he ignores my letters, and now it turns out he has invited people into Isles as part of his plan to kill my darling?"

She stood, a look of terrible wrath in her eyes, and said to Haskill; "Tell him that I have had enough; he has made an enemy of Relmyna Verenim, and I will stop at nothing, _nothing_ until my child is avenged!" Her gaze fell upon Carnius. "And you, Imperial, will suffer in equal measure! You and your master will pay!"

She stormed away down the hill, Haskill and Carnius watching her go.

"Well, that's a rather concerning development," Haskill remarked. "I'll have to inform Lord Sheogorath of this when I return."

He glanced around.

"Sentinel said you were fighting the Gatekeeper with a Nord," he added. "Where is he?"

"Jayred?" Carnius asked. "He's down fetching his Swattle herd. Do you need him to speak to Sheogorath too?"

"No, not particularly," Haskill said with a shake of his head. "According to Sentinel you were the one who takes the Haratak's share of the credit for killing it, and you were the one who made his way through the gateway in the bay. You are the sort of person Sheogorath was calling for, after all."

"Right," Carnius said. "Anything else I need to know?"

"I simply recommend that you stick the roads for now, and perhaps try and keep a wary eye on Relmyna when you can," Haskill replied. "She is quite good at holding a grudge."

"I'll bear that in mind," Carnius said. "See you in New Sheoth, Haskill."

"I look forward to it," Haskill said in a tone that suggested he would rather be in the most chill and benighted depths of Coldharbour than seeing Carnius in New Sheoth. He stepped back, and faded from view, and Carnius turned his gaze towards the imposing Gates of Madness. There were two doors, one decorated with a manic grin carved into its surface, the other a grimace or a snarl. Carnius unrolled the map and glanced down at it; there were two roads leading from Passwall, it seemed, one through the southern province of the Isles, Dementia, and another taking a more scenic route along the northern half, through the realm named Mania. The choice was an easy one, the Dementia road being far more direct, and Carnius rolled the map up in time to see Jayred approaching, his herd of Swattle slithering up the path before him.

"You haven't it opened it yet, friend?" he asked as he ordered his herd to a halt with a click of his tongue.

"Just wrapping up a little business with somebody I know," Carnius replied. He tapped his belt-purse, which was now bulging with coin from the bet he had made on himself with the mayor of Passwall. "I'm all ready now, though."

He made his way up the steps that lead to both of the gates, the two keys in either hand. The two implements, one carved a golden metal and the other cut from a purple crystal of some kind, hummed in his hands. He approached one of the gates, the left hand one and raised the golden key to its lock; with a discordant whine it jumped in his hand, somehow jerking away from the hold in the massive portal. Carnius frowned, raised the other key and inserted it; it was almost eager with the ease that it clicked home. A twist sent a great clank echoing from the gate, the noise somehow sounding like a moan of pain or despair, the key spinning in the lock and, once that was done, fading from view. After a moment's consideration, he did the same with the second gate and key. With that one, there was the distinct impression of laughter within the echo.

Jayred had already pushed the gate open, and he and his herd of Swattle were making their way along the Dementia road. He was just fifty paces ahead, and Carnius stepped through the threshold to catch up with them.

_Moment of broken balance scales tip paradigm shifts gauntlet shatters snake-chain. That moment? Yes. No. One of the many. A weight on the scales. That is what it was. An influence, when the snake's tail first began to slip from its jaw. _

_I can still hear that scratching, you know. I think it's getting louder. Please help. I'm sorry for what I did, I truly am. Please. I'm afraid, now._

They came to the village just an hour or two before darkness was about to set.

The place reminded Carnius of Passwall, if on somewhat of a larger scale. The two of them had spent the better part of three hours skirting the borders of a lake that the road ran alongside, and the village occupied a silted peninsula that jutted into its waters. Each of the houses were raised up on stilts, rising out of swampy soil, and beyond its borders the lake split into hundreds of miniature rivulets, mushroom trees raised above them on the pillaring of hundreds of roots.

"Mushroom mangroves," Jayred remarked as they approached. "This place will be perfect for my herd."

"Looks like as a good a place to stay as any, if there's an inn," Carnius said. "Would certainly beat camping."

There were more than a few people out on the central square the village was based around, and the gladiator was quietly pleased when the Nord and his herd of Swattle drew more attention than he did. While Jayred managed to gather a small crowd of around a dozen of the village's residents, Carnius slipped away to the largest building there, one which he guessed to be an inn; if Jayred decided to stay, he would bid the Nord farewell in the morning.

The inn itself was of the same sort of construction that he would have found in any place around Cyrodiil; the bottom floor was a single large, high-ceilinged room with tables spanning its length, a fireplace at one end and a bar running along a wall. There were a few patrons, and Carnius spared them only a cursory glance, and his gaze lingered on the young woman playing what looked to be harp made from fused together bones. The tune she was playing was a complex, quiet melody, fingers dancing over the strings.

There were words in her tune, and Carnius lingered for a moment as he tried to pick them out. After a few moments, he gave up; whatever tongue they were in, it was one he couldn't understand, but he took a few moments more to listen before he headed to the bar.

"A stranger, I see," the Argonian behind it remarked. "Somebody who I've never seen before. Which is, of course a stranger. If you were familiar, after all, you would not be strange."

He harrumphed, and added with an accusing glare; "You unfamiliar strangers are not very helpful, you know. How am I supposed to know you if I do not know anything about you, eh?"

"I…I was just hoping to get a meal and a bed for the night," Carnius said after a moment. "That's all."

"Then you are a stranger who is also a customer," the Argonian nodded. "I can tolerate customer strangers. What do you want for food, strange one who engages in custom?"

"What's cooking?" Carnius asked.

"Swattle stew with vegetables," the bartender replied. "Will that be a good meal for the customer stranger? Or perhaps, in your strange ways, it will not be. I do not know."

"That sounds fine," Carnius said. "And a tankard of mead to wash it down."

"Then that will be three of the customer stranger's coins, then," the Argonian said. Carnius placed them down on the counter, and the lizard-man bit one to check if it was genuine. Satisfied, he nodded and called into the kitchen; "Raddaz, a bowl of stew!"

"This one hears," a hoarse voice replied, and Carnius glanced through the doorway that it came through to see a Khajiit with ragged, patchy fur ladle a thick liquid into a pewter bowl while the bartender poured out Carnius' drink.

His meal and drink in hand, Carnius found a seat near the bard. He glanced at her occasionally as he ate, watching her play and simply enjoying the music. She was good looking in a boyish way, short-cut blonde hair turned orange in the light of the fire she played besides, leading Carnius to guess she was from Imperial or Nordic stock. Her voice was husky, low-pitched for a woman's, but pleasing to the ear nonetheless. There was a pack by her feet, not unlike Carnius' own, and she was wearing armour of hardened and padded leather. She looked like somebody who travelled a lot, and knew how to fight, but he couldn't see a weapon anywhere near her person and judging by the fact that an Orsimer a few tables away had a pair of fearsome handaxes mounted on his back, that wasn't due to the inn having a no-weapon policy either. She probably knew some magic or fought with her fists like he did, he guessed.

He was nearing the end of his meal when the door to the tavern swung open. Carnius glanced over at it, half expecting to see Jayred enter, but instead it was an Imperial dressed in steel warplate with a broad-headed battleaxe across his back. He surveyed the inn with a look of disapproval, one that turned to outright rage as his gaze fell upon the bard.

"What is that?" he asked, the question directed at the bartender.

"She is playing for the entertainment of the customers," the Argonian replied. "Is there a problem?"

"Entertainment?" the man asked. "_Entertainment_? Entertainment, my dear Argonian, is a vile abomination more akin to the realm of Mania than it is to that of Dementia. Entertainment brings happiness, and happiness brings blindness, decadence and corruption! It leaves us open to the deceptions of the false Madgod!"

The bartender sighed as the bard's music petered out. She turned on the stool she was sitting on to face the new arrival, fingers poised over the strings of her instrument.

"You have been hanging around with those Heretics too much, Lucius," the Argonian said. "Go home and stop pestering my customers."

"Blind fool," Lucius snarled, stepping towards the bard. "You, girl, what do you think you are doing?"

"Playing music," was her reply.

"Then I order you to halt your decadent act of sin, immediately," the Imperial replied with a growl.

"I just have," she pointed out. "Otherwise I'd still be singing, not talking to you."

"Do not be smart with me, girl," the Imperial said, stalking towards her. Carnius pushed his bowl to one side and swung both legs out from under the table, freeing him to rise. "If you have any decency you would take that implement of debauchery you have there and smash it at once."

"I'm not doing that," the bard replied. "Now please leave me be."

"You won't?" the Imperial said taking a few more steps towards her. Carnius prepared to move. "Then perhaps I should do it for you."

Her response was to pluck a string and to say…something. The noise seemed to be confused to Carnius' ears, chopped and warped despite the perfectly serviceable acoustics of the room. Whatever it was, the Imperial was flung back from her as if he had been struck in the chest by a giant's club, sailing through the air to clatter on the floor.

"You sane little strumpet!" he cursed, he cursed, scrambling to his feet and loosing his axe. "I'll smash your damn _head_ for that!"

He managed a step forwards before the bard plucked another string and loosed another one of those half-words. The Imperial stumbled, swaying on the spot and blinking in sudden confusion.

"Why don't you go home like Eats-His-Claws suggested?" the bard said, plucking the strings of her instrument as she spoke. Carnius was no mage, but even he could sense the arcane power contained within that order crackle through the air. "You look tired; some rest could do you good."

The Imperial looked dazed for a few moments, before he nodded.

"Yes," he said, tone dazed. "Perhaps a nap will sort me out."

He looked at the axe in his hand with a look of bafflement, as if confused as to why he was holding it, and placed it in its harness on his back. After a moment, he stumbled back out of the door, and the Argonian shook his head.

"Damn Heretics," he muttered.

The bard glanced over at Carnius, and she smiled at him.

"I noticed you just there, friend," she said. "I might not have needed the help, but thanks for the thought in any case."

"No problem," Carnius said. "Never been a fan of his sort of person."

"Not many people are keen on the Heretics," the bard replied. She extended a hand. "Salyan Irrenius, by the way, bard."

"Carnius Hackelt," Carnius replied as he shook it. He glanced at the doorway which the Imperial had stumbled through. "I'm curious, by the way; what was that you just used on that Imperial, just there? Some kind of magic."

"That's right," Salyan said. "Audiomancy; I use my lyre here to help me focus and cast my spells. It's not the widest-known kind of magic, and it isn't the easiest to use, but it works for me."

Carnius nodded. That would explain the lack of weapons; she was a spellcaster, as he had guessed.

She sat down on the bench next to her, and called to the bartender; "Eats, have I earned my meal yet?"

"I suppose so," the Argonian said. "Raddaz, get the instrument girl something to eat!"

"So what brings you to this part of the Isles?" Salyan asked.

"I'm on my way to New Sheoth," Carnius replied.

"Really? You came from Passwall, then?" Salyan said. She looked him up and down. "That would mean you were blessed, but you don't _look_ blessed. How did you get past the Gatekeeper?"

"Killed it," Carnius said.

"You killed it?" Salyan said, raising an eyebrow. "Really? I'm the one who tells tall tales here, Carnius, not you."  
"I'm not joking," Carnius said. "I killed it. There's a Nord outside with a herd of Swattle you can ask if you don't believe me. But I'm heading to New Sheoth now to meet with Sheogorath."

"So that call for champions he sent out wasn't completely useless," Salyan murmured, half to herself. "I'm heading to New Sheoth myself; I was around this part of the Isles to try and get some scrolls from some old ruins, but now I've picked those up I'm heading back there."

Carnius glanced back at the small crowd in the tavern, before he said; "Might be a good idea to do a bit of adventuring on the side, yeah; this crowd doesn't look all that interested in any songs, if I'm honest."

"Most Demented taverns don't have all that much time for bards and minstrels," Salyan said with a shrug. "If this was a Manic crowd they'd be calling for an encore right now."

Before Carnius could question what any of that meant, the Argonian appeared with the bard's meal in hand. He set it down on the table along with a fork and spoon, and glanced at Carnius.

"Does the customer stranger wish for anything else?" he asked.

"I'm fine, thanks," Carnius said.

Salyan was about to tuck into her meal, but paused and glanced up at the Argonian.

"Hey, Eats," she said. "What was that you were saying about Heretics just a minute ago? Have they been giving you trouble?"

"They moved in a couple of months ago, started camping out at some old ruin about half a mile east of here," Eats replied. "They haven't actually gone and attacked anybody yet, but they're causing trouble in any case. Merchants have started steering clear of here now, because of them; worried about being attacked and so forth. Plus they're getting some of the folks in the village all stirred up, like Lucius, and they've started making a scene."

"Carnius and I could sort them out for you, if you want," Salyan suggested. "Just point us in the right direction and we'll deal with them tomorrow morning."

"Hold on," Carnius said. "Since when did I agree to this?"

"You look like you can look after yourself in a fight, you'll be fine," Salyan replied. "Besides, it'll be fun. And if you thought that Lucius person was bad, believe me, the actual Heretics he looks up to are even worse. And afterwards I'll head to New Sheoth with you; there's safety in numbers, after all."

"I suppose so," Carnius conceded.

"Great," Salyan said. She took a spoonful of her meal and started chewing. Through the mouthful, she smiled and added; "This is going to be good!"


	11. Altar

Chapter 11-Altar

"Remind me why we're doing this again?" Carnius asked as they looked at the entrance of the ruined building. From their viewpoint, they could see two guards loitering around a few broken columns, the white stone pillars jutting to the sky like bared ribs. The rest of the building complex, one of tumbled walls, half-fallen roofs and overgrown courtyards, sprawled out beyond them.

"Because they're a bunch of Heretics," Salyan replied, crouched as she was in the shade of a mushroom tree next to Carnius. "They're making trouble for the people over at Backbite, and they don't like my music."

"To be fair, music isn't everyone's thing," Carnius said.

"I can understand if it isn't to everybody's taste," Salyan said, tugging the cloak of tanned Swattle skin she wore on her back forwards a notch. "But I refuse to be called a bad person simply because of what I am and what I do."

There was a look of quiet anger eyes, as Carnius glanced over at her, but that evaporated a moment later as she added with a grin; "Besides, you wouldn't want to leave a girl like me all alone to deal with a bunch of dangerous sorcerers like them, would you?"

"Fine," Carnius said. "Let's get this over with, then."

He glanced over at the two sentries, before he asked Salyan; "You know any frenzy spells?"

"Yes, I know one," she said.

"Good," Carnius said. "Hit one of them with it, then the other."

"You realise his friend will just dispel it, right?" Salyan asked.

"Not if you hit the other one right away," Carnius said. "One kills the other and then we finish him of before he can come to his senses. And it's hard to cast spells quickly when you've got someone in your face trying to kill you, after all."

"Good thinking," Salyan nodded. She raised her lyre, fingers finding a certain string, and as she played spoke what Carnius could only call a note of power.

An angry dischord sliced through the air towards one of the Heretic guards, a thrown dagger of harsh sound. The man turned with a snarl towards his Dunmer companion, raising his hand and calling upon some kind of arcane energy, and with the sound of ripping leather some whipcord-thin creature of jutting ribs and claws appeared from thin air. The Dunmer gave a yell of alarm as he called together magic to stop what he guessed was a frenzying spell, but a second arrow angry noise from Salyan's lyre halted that; the dispel turned into a crackle of lightning that hit the other Heretic's summoned creature in the chest.

It stumbled back, but the Mer's efforts were in vain as the other Heretic drew a mace from his belt and swung for him; it slammed into the side of the Dunmer's head with a crack and a squelch and the unfortunate Dark Elf collapsed to the ground.

By then, Carnius was moving, bursting from the undergrowth towards the remaining Heretic. He ignored the summoned beast, who was clutching a badly burned chest and wheezing with pain, and he felt arcane energy sent from Salyan's lyre speed past him and strike the Heretic. The man in question raised his hands to cast a spell, but his fingers just waved uselessly at Carnius as the gladiator approached.

Spitting a curse, he swung down with his mace over his head as Carnius came into his reach, aiming to crush his skull in one blow. Carnius crossed his arms before him, catching the haft of the mace on the vambraces of his gauntlets and halting its path. His front arm pushed up and across over his other wrist, pushing the mace away and leaving the Heretic open, before his back hand lashed out, cracking into the Heretic's face. He stumbled back, cursing and clutching his broken nose with a free hand, swaying as blood dripped from it.

"Kill him!" the Heretic yelled at his summoned creature. "Kill him, I say!"

The creature charged with a pained shriek, one of its arms extended to strike and the other clutching its injured chest, and Carnius stepped into its reach, jarring it with his right shoulder and sent its swing off-target. He jabbed his elbow into its thin chest, and a moment later swung the back of his fist up and smashed it into the funnel that occupied where its mouth should be. It stumbled away, and he turned his attention to its summoner.

Seeing where Carnius was facing, the Heretic managed to raise his mace in a crude guard, blood still dripping from his crushed nose, and Carnius moved. Three steps covered the distance between them, and he slammed the back of his fist upwards into the haft of the mace, knocking it away before the spiked knuckles of his other gauntlet slammed into the cartilage of his throat. The Heretic collapsed, gagging and choking as he clutched his ruined windpipe, and the fading of the summoned creature that he had called into being marked his passing a few moments later.

"That was bracing!" Salyan remarked as she drew near to Carnius. "We make a good team, you know."

"Guess so," the Imperial remarked with a nod. It was true; without that silence spell, dealing with that Heretic and his pet would have been a lot trickier, not to mention that fact that Salyan's frenzy spell had dealt with the Dunmer who had also stood guard. "Thanks for the help, by the way; reckon I needed it."

"Pleasure's all mine," Salyan replied. "Now come on, let's go and kill these people."

They made their way through the half-ruined entrance of the building, footsteps echoing on the cracked flagstones that paved it. The right wall had tumbled in on itself, allowing sunlight and plant life to interlope on the building's innards, but the left one was still intact.

"What are those?" Salyan asked suddenly, and from his position a few paces ahead of her Carnius turned around to see the bard examining the still-intact wall. There were carvings on it, weathered and indistinct figures in movement. Carnius squinted at it for a few moments, sensing that the savage swirl of combat was depicted in them, figures wielding weapons, all made faceless by the wearing of time. Many of them seemed to be footsoldiers of some kind, holding swords, shields and bows, while winged figures duelled with what looked like flocks of dragons. Across the top, a pattern of rings was linked together in a long chain that ran along the cracked and water-stained wall. Faint indents that were carved along the bottom of the stone suggested writing of some kind, and Salyan crouched next to them, running her fingers over the carvings with a frown.

"I wonder what that says," she murmured.

"We can look into it later," Carnius said. "There's still a whole group of Heretics around here, and I don't want to get caught unawares."

"You're right," Salyan nodded, standing up. Her lyre shifted into a different hold in her hands as she stood once more, gripped in the same way a soldier would grasp a weapon.

Carnius lead the way through the ruin, Salyan following not far behind. On occasion they would skirt tumbled piles of rubble or puddles that had formed in the floor, from which multifarious fungi of every shape and form imaginable would sprout. At one point, Carnius had to all but throw himself away from a patch of mould that reacted to him stepping on it by growing greenish teeth and attempting to bite his foot. The walls were covered in carving similar to the ones found by the entry hall,

"Where is everyone?" Salyan asked as they reached a long-neglected courtyard, now overgrown with plants of all kind. All of them were greyish things that looked halfway to death, rot and fungi the only thing that bloomed in any kind of abundance here.

"That's a good question," Carnius said. "You'd think if they had sentries posted up they'd be a big enough group to possibly warrant some attention."

"Well, I'm sure we'll find them sooner or later," Salyan said.

As they continued, the silence of the building began to press on them. It was deserted, graveyard-silent and the only sound they heard for a long while was their own footsteps echoing back at them. The further in they got, the more they expected to run across some band of Heretics, but all they found were more carvings showing some ancient war between unknown antagonists and nothing else. At one point, they came to a room, dominated by a statue of two figures. One, wearing some kind of armour that looked more like it was cut than forged, was standing over a second person who was on his knees and facing away from him; the passage of time had rendered their appearance indistinct, and the only facial features of the kneeling figure that remained were the faintest impression of a nose and a beard. The armoured statue held a chain in his hands, and it was wrapped around the neck of the one on his knees. Somehow, the erosion that had pervaded the rest of the crumbling building had left the metal of the chain untouched, and as Carnius peered at it he saw that each link was forged to resemble a snake biting its own tail.

"You alright?" he said as he saw Salyan frowning at something.

"Can't you hear that?" she asked.

"Hear what?"

"That chanting," she replied, taking a few steps towards a doorway on the opposite side of the room. "I can hear people saying something."

Before Carnius could stop her, she went through. He followed, hurrying after her as she tried to track the progress of her mysterious sound. Not far along the corridor, the noise reached his ears as well; faint, repetitive noise, too distant and weak to pick up words. As they advanced, that too came into clarity, a cyclic call of some words whose meaning he could not decipher.

They found the source of the noise in a room that sank into the foundations of the building. Salyan and Carnius halted at the top of a stairwell that ran down into a large, square room, one ringed by balconies along either side. At its heart, a group of people were gathered around a solid block of some glowing white crystal, all in the blue robes as worn by the guards outside.

"Let's get them," Salyan hissed.

"No," Carnius replied, voice lowered. "There's too many for us to fight."

"It'll be easy," she said. "Chuck a few frenzy spells in there and-"

"And they'll dispel them," Carnius said. "We aren't fighting them, not when they're all together. Besides, I want to see what they were doing."

He stepped through a doorway to the side, onto one of the balconies where he would be hidden in shadow, and Salyan followed a few moments later. As they did so, one of the Heretic's number stepped forwards; judging from the fact that her robes were more elaborate and her hair was grey, Carnius guessed she was some kind of leader or elder.

"Jyggalag!" she exclaimed, raising her hands into the air. "Ayat mran zia nasheggorath orotya! Iok threye olorias! Kayan zey yatania!"

"Any ideas what she's saying?" Carnius asked Salyan.

"No," Salyan said. "I don't think I've ever heard that language before."

"Ikiolyis nethren zayatianis ret!" the priestess cried. She lowered her hands, looking over her congregation. "Bring forth the sacrifice."

Two of Heretics stepped forth, a third held between them with his hands behind his back. His hood was down, and Carnius recognised him as Lucius, the Imperial's head held down in an expression of defeat and fear.

"Please," he managed to mumble to the priestess. "Don't do this! I'm one of you!"

"I know," the elder replied, her tone gentle and sympathetic. "This is why you have been chosen for so great an undertaking, brother. Do not be afraid; through your sacrifice, we will help usher in a new age for the Shivering Isles."

Lucius' pleas were ignored as other two Heretics forced him onto the altar. The chant began again as the priestess drew a long, straight knife from her belt, the blade cut from the same crystal as the altar, and raised it above her head.

"Ayake!" she cried. "Rathiak kayala Jyggalag zayat!"

Blood spilled upon shining mineral as the blade hit home. Salyan gasped and inched further back into the shadows.

"This is wrong," she whispered. "Something is very, very wrong."

The unholy liturgy of words repeated by the Heretics continued, a prayer to some god neither gladiator nor bard wished to comprehend, and spurred on by the unnatural power in the words and blood, the body of Lucius began to rise into the air. His skin began to turn pale and white as his body grew in size and stature. Muscle turned into growing crystalline plates covering a vaguely humanoid figure that hung in the air, turning into a standing position above the altar. In just a few moment, the dreadful transformation was complete, and what had once been an Imperial was now a massive statue of silver-white crystal standing before the altar, the mineral that made it cut to resemble plate armour. In the faceless helm, the blank eye sockets lit up with the dreadful white light of some ancient and cursed star, fuelled by some unholy life, and great crystalline wings unfolded from its back with a ringing, scraping noise, span so great their tips touched either side of the chamber walls. In one of its hands it held a pair of scales, the other a colossal sword, and it gazed upon the congregation before it with a look of dreadful contempt and malice.

**Kneel**, it ordered in a scraping boom of a voice, and the congregation did as bidden. In their hiding place on the balcony, Carnius and Salyan found their knees sagging on their own accord. **Who summons Jyggalag's Arbitrator of Judgement?**

"We are the Heretics of the Isles, my Lord Judgement," the priestess spoke from where she was on her knees. "Those who reject the lies of the Madgod, who have learned the truth of the Greymarch and Jyggalag and who seek the Prince of Order's blessing, so that we may spread his will and truth to all the Isles."

"Greymarch?" Carnius heard Salyan murmured by his side. "I thought that was just a story."

**Blessing?** the colossal figure, Judgement, asked. **What are you, mortal, to presume to ask for such a thing?**

"A mere pawn," the priestess replied. "A slave willing to serve the Tyrant of Tyrants. We petition with blood and chant and sacrifice, as laid down in the rituals of the Greymarch. We know that the salvation of the Isles is soon to be at hand, and wish to take part in this glorious endeavour, to serve the true ruler of this land."

The giant took a step forwards, the flagstones cracking beneath its shining boots. The great blade it carried hummed as it whirled in its hand, coming to rest beneath the priestess' chin, lifting her head so that she saw the terrible aspect of Judgement in full.

**You speak your case well**, it said. R**eceive Jyggalag's blessing. Become priests and priestesses of order.**

"Thank you, my lord," the priestess said, still on her knees. "You have our eternal-"

The words were cut off by a gasp of pain and shock as she began to change. Her skin turned pale grey, as it did with the other heretics, their robes changing from light blue in colour to a deep, dark purple. Chunks of crystal began to grow across the cloth, swelling and linking to form a breastplate and belt as part of some hideous metamorphosis.

"We need to get out of here," Salyan said. Carnius nodded; he'd seen more than enough of this.

They crept in silence to the entranceway and hurried through the door as the gathering of Heretics cried out in pain at their changing, using the distraction to get away. As soon as they were sure their footsteps would be out of earshot, they broke into a sprint, and did not stop until they were outside and well away from the crumbled ruin.

Carnius leant against a tree, panting for breath after the sprint and swigged from the fatigue potion at his belt, feeling the burn of a stitch that had begun to form fade away and the tiredness from that sprint wash from his muscles. He handed it to Salyan, who gulped down a grateful swig of it and passed it back.

"What in Oblivion's name was that?" Carnius asked.

"I'm not certain," Salyan said. "But I think I might have an idea. There's an old legend in the Isles, of a war against an army known as the Greymarch. There are dozens of different tellings I've heard over the years, some of them saying that the Greymarch wins and conquers the Isles, some saying that it loses, others saying that they were locked in a stalemate or kept fighting over and over again, but all of them ended with the promise of Greymarch invading once more in the future. That creature we saw in there was one of the Arbitrators, and according to the stories they were the Greymarch's generals or champions or something similar. And if they required a sacrifice to bring one of those here, then there's no knowing how powerful that thing was."

"So who do we warn about it?" Carnius asked.

"Well, it won't stay for very long," Salyan said. "That sacrifice will give it energy to stay here for a while, but not for long. But those Heretics are doing something more dangerous that just defying Lord Sheogorath; if you're going to see him in person in New Sheoth, you should warn him, have him send a patrol down there to deal with them."

Carnius nodded.

"I'll get that done alright," he said. "I don't know what that was, but that wasn't right; killing that man like that…"

"I was talking about that creature they summoned," Salyan said. "The Arbitrator; that could be dangerous, if any of those old stories are true."

"And the human sacrifice?" Carnius asked.

"So what?" Salyan shrugged. "The Feasters in Bliss have one every month for that Holy Banquet of theirs, and I wouldn't be surprised if the Starvers did something similar too. Then there's the annual Leap of Flame that the Church of Immolation have as well. Hardly a big deal, after all. I was talking about the Arbitrator."

"Right," Carnius nodded, deciding that was the safest course to take at the moment. "Of course."

He shook his head.

"Anyway, the road shouldn't be too far north of here," he said. "Let's go find it and then head to New Sheoth."


	12. The Wagon

Chapter 12-The Wagon

They found the road not long afterwards, and even though Salyan had seemed relatively sure that the Arbitrator that had been called would not tarry for long, both she and Carnius kept glancing over their shoulders every once in a while, and kept an ear out for the beating of crystalline wings. After half an hour or so of walking they began to relax, fairly certain now that they had escaped that ruin without being noticed. Soon enough, another sound reached their ears; a faint hooting and grunting noise, and as they neared, more than a few colourful curses.

They rounded a corner to see the back of a wagon, a rear wheels sunk into a ditch on the side of the road. There was someone wearing Daedric plate attempting to push it at the rear, and around the front there was the sound of a woman trying to cajole whatever pulled it into action with a mixture of equal parts gentle encouragement and profanity.

"You need a hand there?" Carnius asked as they approached. The figure in armour turned around to face them, and the Imperial saw the man's red-streaked grey skin and the small horns jutting from his forehead; he was a Dremora, of all things.

"Who's that, Kallix?" a middle-aged Dunmer asked as she looked out from around the front of the cart.

"Travellers," the Dremora replied, his voice a deep, harsh scrape of glass on granite. "Offering to help."

"Well praise Azura for that," the Dark Elf said. She looked slightly to the left of where Carnius and Salyan were and said; "As you can see, our wagon's had a bit of a mishap on the way to New Sheoth. If you give us a hand with this little problem then I can get you there without you needing to walk, if that's where you're going."

"Sounds fair," Salyan said. "Do you just want two extra pairs of hands to push?"

The Dunmer nodded.

"Just help Kallix, and I'll try and get our rayet to start pulling again," the Dunmer said. "Hopefully if we've got some more strength on the back we can get it out of this rut."

She disappeared around the front of the cart, and called; "Ready when you are!"

The three set their feet into the ground and pushed, grunting and straining with effort as they tried to move the wagon. With glacial slowness, it began to roll forwards up the slope of the ditch, axles creaking and rumbling as they pushed. At one point Salyan broke her hold on it for a moment to turn around and push with her back against it, digging the heels of her boots into the dirt. For a few moments, the pressure seemed to grow all the more before it released and the wagon rolled forwards on the flat of the road. Salyan shrieked with surprise as she nearly toppled onto her back, catching herself on the edge of the wagon.

"I don't think I thought that through entirely," she said, shaking her head as she righted herself. "Still, got the wagon up, didn't it?"

"That it did," the Dremora said. "Thank you for the help, travellers."

"I didn't catch your name, by the way," Carnius said. Part of him was quietly stunned at the fact that he was engaged with a civil conversation with a Dremora; the last time he had seen one of those had been three years ago, and it and its compatriots had been doing everything in their power to kill him.

"Kallix," the Daedra replied as they made their around to the front of the wagon. "My dear companion is Haella Theranni."

Carnius and Salyan introduced themselves in turn, and Haella as she appeared to greet them and thank them. Up close, Carnius could see her eyes were a milky red, lacking any kind of pupil, and from the way she didn't quite make eye contact with him he guessed she was blind.

"We'll need to give Indoril a few minutes to rest," she added once they had made their introductions. "He worked hard trying to pull this wagon."

She gestured towards the creature hitched to the front of the wagon, and Carnius blinked in surprised. He had been expecting a horse, but between the two tongues of wood off the vehicle's front was a bipedal beast, its back parallel to the ground and a long tail running from its spine, and towards its front there were a pair of arms protruding from its shoulders, ending with hands that looked disconcertingly similar to those of most humans, mer or beast-folk. Its head rested on the edge of a long, thick neck, and from that a curved beak ran. It turned to look at them with four eyes, two on the front of its head, two on the side, the iridescent feathers that adorned its whole body shining even in the overcast sunlight of Dementia.

"He's gorgeous!" Salyan exclaimed as she saw it. "Could I...?"

"By all means," Haella said. "Indoril likes meeting people."

Salyan approached the beast, and held her hand out for it to sniff from the two pitted nostrils at the bed of its beak. Satisfied, it let her run her hands over the colourful plumage it wore, giving a hoot at the sensation.

"He'll probably want a drink after that work," Haella remarked, more to herself than anybody else. "Kallix, be a dear and get him some water, will you?"

"Of course," the Dremora replied, hauling himself into the wagon. Carnius watched him go, and then glanced back at Haella.

"I can't say I'd have expected somebody to be travelling with a Dremora," he remarked. "Thought they had a reputation for being a bit hostile; not sure I'd do the same."

"Oh, you mean Kallix?" Haella asked. "It's not the most usual of situations, but I trust him implicitly. And they just get bad press for Mehrunes Dagon working them into a state during the Oblivion Crisis; they're really not that bad, usually."

Carnius decided not to comment on that, and decided to change the subject as Kallix reappeared with a water barrel under his arm for their draft-beast.

"So how long have you been on the Isles, then?" Carnius asked.

"Oh, we only arrived yesterday from Moonshadow, Azura's realm," Haella said. "I'm a merchant, you see; I sell soul gems, trinkets, alchemical ingredients, that sort of thing, and then I pick up goods in New Sheoth to sell back at home. Kallix has been my companion in the business for the last twenty years or so; he's not much a merchant but he's good at hitting things with that sword of his, if not much else."

"You wound me, Haella," the Dremora replied from the front of the wagon, where he had set down the drink.

"Well, I suppose you're alright for warming a bedroll too," the Dunmer shot back. She turned her attention back to Carnius. "Thinking of coming to the Isles, are you from around here? I've generally got a knack for picking out whether somebody's Manic or Demented just from all the time I've visited; your young lady friend is certainly from the north, but you don't seem all that fitting for either of them."

"I only got to Passwall a few days ago," Carnius said.

"Oh, managed to slip in now that that Imperial everyone there was talking about killed the Gatekeeper?" Haella asked.

"Something like that, yeah," Carnius nodded.

"Thought so," Haella said. "Kallix and I have permission to enter the Isles for trade, so the Gatekeeper lets us past; commerce between the realms helps every Daedric Prince, after all."

Carnius nodded as Kallix called over; "I think Indoril is ready to go."

"Excellent," Haella replied. She glanced over at Carnius. "Climb aboard; you've certainly earned your ride."

She clambered into the seat of the wagon as Kallix took the reins, and Carnius followed a moment later. Salyan followed a moment later, and with a flick on the leather straps, the Dremora urged Indoril into motion.

"So if you're from Moonshadow, how did you get hold of a rayet?" Salyan asked as it rumbled along the road.

"We traded for him," Haella said. "A soul gem, trapped with the soul of a daedroth, in return for a good cart rayet."

Salyan nodded.

"Is it true about what they say?" she asked. "About Moonshadow being the most beautiful place in all Oblivion? That it's so stunning any mortal goes blind just looking at it?"

Haella gestured to the milky red orbs of her eyes.

"How do you think this happened to me?" she said. "It is quite honestly the most incredible place one can go to; we live in Unseen, the capital."

"And they say that she has the spirit of Taread Songblood staying in the Palace of Roses," Salyan asked, leaning forwards with sudden interest in her eyes. "Is that true too?"

"We've heard him play more than once," Kallix said. "I'm not the greatest appreciator of music but the performance was incredible."

"Who was he?" Carnius asked as the cart passed under an arch formed by the roots of a massive mushroom tree.

"He was the first bard," Salyan explained. "One of the Five Hundred Companions of Ysgramor, the keeper of their history; he carved a harp from the bones of a dragon and made its strings with its guts. He was the first practitioner of audiomancy, too."

"So you've studied bardic history, then?" Haella asked.

"I am a bard," Salyan said. "Perhaps I'll travel to Moonshadow, and visit him one day. Though I might pack a blindfold."

"Apparently he's quite tired of bards going to him and asking for tutelage," Haella replied with a shake of her head and a smile. "I don't think you'll have much luck if that's what you want to go for."

"It's not a lesson I want," Salyan said. "I'm looking for something, and I think he'd be able to help me."

"Then maybe you should go there one day," Haella said. "If you do, let us know; you seem like a nice young woman, and we'd be happy to put a roof over your head while you're there."

"Thank you," Salyan said.

The wagon was passing by some ruins, and Carnius glanced at trio of weathered busts that sat on pillars on the side of the road, each one of the statues a good three metres tall. There was a grinding, scraping noise, and the heads on top of each turned to face them, tracking their progress.

"What on Nirn are they?" Carnius asked.

"Those are the Three Watchmen," Kallix said, keeping his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "It's best not to stare at them; if you do, it can be...unpleasant."

The conversation was muted as the cart passed by under the unsettling gaze of the faceless statues, and once they were out of view Salyan muttered; "I hate this place."

Carnius glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow.

"It's just Dementia, that's all," she said. "It gets to you, especially if you usually live in Mania like I do."

"What were you doing here, anyway?" he asked. "You mentioned getting a scroll from some ruins a while back; what was that for?"

"I'm looking for something," Salyan said. "It's this...note, I once heard, in a dream. The purest and most perfect chord you can imagine, the Chord to end all chords, and I've been trying to track it down for years. Those ruins used to be the home of a famous audiomancer, and I was searching through his old records to see if I could find anything to help me; I've got a few friends who look at audiomancy in a more academic way than I do, and they might be able to help me."

"I see," Carnius said. "Well, if you ever need a hand with chasing up any leads on that, just let me know; I wouldn't mind helping."

"You'd do that?" Salyan asked. From where he was sitting at the reins, where the bard couldn't see him, Kallix shot him the look that is known to just about anybody male, regardless of culture, race, age or location, that meant 'get in there'.

"Yeah, I would," Carnius said. "Gods alone know, you're one of the first friends I've made in this place, and I could do with every one of them."

The lull broken, the conversation continued as the wagon rumbled on. The hours of travelling were interrupted only by a group of half a dozen of purple-skinned women mounted on scaled rayet, wearing segmented armour of dark metal and carrying lances and shields. The patrol gave them a brief greeting and carried on their way, but aside from that the road was unpopulated.

It was as the sun was beginning to set that they finally saw New Sheoth. The forest around the road cleared into flatter swamplands, and in the distance, rising up on a hill, turned golden by the light of the setting sun, the walls of the city emerged from the ground. The wagon drew closer, and in less than half an hour they were at the gates. Kallix dismounted and helped Haella down onto the road, where it widened into a small courtyard where more wagons were gathered.

"We'll need to deal with some bureaucracy," he explained. "There's no need for you to hang around if you have something to do."

They made their farewells, passed through the gates of the city and stepped into New Sheoth.


	13. The Forge of Scars

**Author's note:** I owe a great debt to the late, great Adam Adamowicz, lead concept artist for the Shivering Isles, whose unique and inspired visions of Crucible and Bliss influenced my own writing of this chapter a great deal. If you've got some spare time, I'd really recommend looking over UESP's archive of the art, available; it's some pretty exceptional stuff.

Also, I think I might have fallen in love with Cutter while I was writing this chapter.

Chapter 13-The Forge of Scars

The district of Crucible was quite possibly the dankest, most miserable strip of city that Carnius had ever laid eyes upon. Having lived in the squalor of the Waterfront all his life, he thought he had seen the worst of urban poverty, but Crucible managed to be even worse.

The roadways that wound their ways around the squat, ramshackle buildings were nothing more than dirt and the occasional cobblestone, small bridges of mud and baked clay arching over open streams of raw, stinking sewage. Buildings rose and fought for space, walls pressing against each other as they climbed over one another like a swarm of squabbling rats. Many of them leaned against each other or over the streets, looking ready to topple down upon the passers-by at any moment, while bridges and balconies jutted over and criss-crossed the roadways. Some of the buildings were made of stone, while others were slapped together from mud and half-rotten sticks in a wattle-and-daub construction, managing to tower upwards by clinging like parasites to other structures. The architectural anarchy, combined with the perpetual gloom that shrouded the entirety of Dementia, meant that a twilight was already in effect in the streets, and the only light was provided by braziers and torches that burned with blue flame.

They had entered a square of some kind, its dominant feature a statue of a bearded man cut from dark granite, wearing a set of ornate mourning clothes. Around the edge of it were market stalls, a number of customers moving between them.

"Poxes!" Carnius heard a merchant cry as he and Salyan stepped past a group of people in the ornate, gilded clothing of the upper classes, their finely tailored jackets and ornate dresses all dyed sombre shades of black and grey. "Pestilences and contagions! Diseases of all strains for the connoisseur, taken fresh from the pits of Peryite himself!"

"Nightmares!" another called. "Nightmares and night terrors of all kinds, all available on the cheap! Ones tailored just for you for a low, low price, all made by the best fear-smiths of Quagmire!"

"Rats on a stick!" cried a withered man, holding a tray before him. "Nice and hot! Get them while they're fresh!"

"One minute," Salyan said. She hurried over to him, and after a brief conversation handed over a few coins in return for a piece of cooked meat that, Carnius was forced to concede, was almost definitely a rat. The tail was a clue, if nothing else was. Salyan caught back up with him, chewing a mouthful of her meal, and caught his stare. "What? I'm hungry."

Carnius shook his head. Of all the things he had seen lately, having a rat on a stick for a snack was pretty normal, though the stink of the place had put paid to any thoughts of food that he had been entertaining. He set out into the streets, Salyan following in his wake.

"Where are we going, then?" Salyan asked. "Are you heading to the palace?"  
"Place has probably shut up for the night by now," Carnius replied. "I need to find a smith, and a place to stay for the night."

"Do we have to stay _here_?" Salyan protested, with a wary glance at the buildings that pressed in around them. "Can we go to Bliss, please? Bliss is much better than this place. You'll like it there, I'm sure you will, much more than Crucible."

Deep and sonorous chanting came to their ears, and a few moments a man in drab grey robes rounded the corner. Parchments, most likely from sacred texts, were sewn into the cloth, and he held a banner with yet more words and scrolls upon it. Behind him, more followed, some of them chanting the same dirge he did, others wailing as if in mourning, several members of the procession beating their own raw and bloodied backs with whips and flails. Delicate feathers of frost spread out from where their feet fell, and many of them carried staves tipped with balls of jagged ice.

"Who are they?" Carnius asked.

"The Frozen Brethren," Salyan explained as they passed by. "They're one of the churches that worship Sheogorath. They're doing it wrong, mind you, but everyone here in Dementia is so there's not much you can really do about that."

Carnius shrugged.

"Sure they're wrong," he said. Salyan gave him a look, but he shrugged it off. He didn't particularly care for the bard's prejudices. "Look, do you know if there's a smith around here?"  
"There's a better smith in-"

"And there are nearer smiths here," Carnius said. He raised his hand, to show one of his somewhat battered gauntlets. "I need this fixed."

"I suppose Cutter is probably the best at repairing sharp things like those knuckle spikes," Salyan said after a moment. The last of the small parade passed them by, a man swinging a censer that had once been a human skull. "But once we've gone there can we _please_ go to Bliss?"

"Fine," Carnius relented. "Let's go see this Cutter first."

Pleased that she had won at least a partial victory, Salyan pointed southwards.

"Her forge is that way," she said. "I think there's an alley we can cut through just over there."

She lead the way, cutting through the back street. The stick that had once held her now-eaten snack was discarded on the remarkably clean floor as they headed through. Carnius glanced at the walls, frowning as he noticed triangular shapes beginning to rise from the crude plaster.

"Salyan, what's going on with the walls?"

The bard glanced back at them, and her eyes widened with alarm.

"Run!" she cried. "Quickly, run!"

Carnius complied as she broke into a sprint, the two of them dashing along as the walls behind them erupted into hungry fangs and slammed shut, a solid block of sharp, ravening teeth, closing upon them to crush and chew. They halted only once they were into the street beyond, the alley shutting up behind them in a wave of dark fangs. They closed behind them with a grinding noise, and after a few moments pulled back away.

"What was that?" Carnius asked, staring at the way they had just come. The stick that had carried Salyan's snack had now disappeared.

"Some of the alleyways try and eat people, now and again," Salyan explained. "Like that one. Usually people put up warnings, but someone must have taken them away. Typical."

She lead Carnius through a few more streets, making a point avoid of avoiding back alleys, until they found their destination; a large stone building with baleful red light glowing from one wing with a chimney drooling smoke into the air. Metal gargoyles were clinging to its sides, blue flames crackling in their jaws, and a desiccated, half-decayed corpse hung over the door from a large iron hook thrust through the back of its neck and out of its mouth. There was a placard hung over it with the word 'Thief' written on it in what Carnius hoped was red paint. Next to that was a sign, reading 'Cutter's Weapons'.

After a moment to remove his gauntlets from his hands, he tried the door, the latch clicking and swinging open. He glanced around the stone innards of the shop, seeing the decorations that hung on every wall; weapons of every kind, bows, crossbows, spears and axes, but most of all, blades of all varieties. There were longswords, claymores, daggers, scimitars, katanas, sabres, rapiers, all adorning the walls. Anything that gored or slashed was present on the walls of Cutter's Weapons. Bloodstains were scattered here and there, and his gaze was drawn to the figure at the far end of the large room, by the fires of the forge. She glanced up from where she was sharpening the edge of a sword on a grindwheel, and her scarred face, framed by brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, broke into a crooked smile. That smile extended past her lips along two cuts deep into each cheek, right to where the jaw rose up to the rest of the skull.

"Ah," she said, leaving her work for a moment and standing. "Customers. I am Cutter, and welcome to my forge. What can I do for you both?"

Cutter was a Bosmer, short like all of her people, her build lean and wiry. Her bare arms, Carnius noted, were even more heavily scarred than her face, coated with gashes and cuts of all kinds.

"I need these repaired," Carnius said, holding up his gauntlets. "Just had a bit of wear and tear, and need fixing up again. The normal sort of thing."

"Let me see those," Cutter said. Carnius handed them over, and she peered at them, intense eyes roving over them, a finger running along the dented and battered metal. There was a quiet purring noise, and after a moment, Carnius realised that it was the smith making it, a rapturous, intoxicated grin spreading across her features. "These are...these are some of the most beautiful weapons I have seen. They have drunk so much blood, ended so, so many lives, even brought about the deaths of friends. They are almost perfect."

"Almost perfect?" Carnius asked.

"Their construction is good, and the inlay of daedric ebony is a good idea; it gives the steel strength without adding too much weight," Cutter said. "But for a piece of metallurgy to be truly perfect, it needs madness ore in it; imbue it with the souls of dead heroes, give its steel life, give it hunger."

Salyan had wondered off, and was looking at a blade that lay unattended on a bench, a straight length of unadorned metal designed to be wielded by two hands, one side edge and the other blunt and flat, the tip a right-angled triangle. The handle and hilt were ornate, dark golden metal moulded around a gem glowing with arcane power, the stone humming faintly.

"Is this made of madness ore?" the bard asked, lifting the weapon up.

"Put that down!" Cutter snapped, the ferocity in the words making Salyan comply in an instant. "The handle is forged from the ore. The blade is of steel and sorcery, one of the strongest I have seen. I am the only smith capable of working with a weapon like it, though that isn't surprising; blades are my speciality, and I make the finest in the Isles. I bless each and every one of them with my own lifeblood before any other wielder uses them."

That would explain the cobweb of scars running across her skin, Carnius decided.

"Whose is it?" Salyan asked.

"It belongs to a missionary of the Feasters," Cutter replied. "Normally I'd rather not do work for a Manic, but that blade there is so steeped in viscera and tragedy that I couldn't resist; it is the most perfect weapon I have ever performed my art upon, though I will give your gauntlets the credit they are due, Imperial; they do come close. Unwilling betrayal always gives metal the sweetest of scents."

"Right," Carnius said. "So, how much will it be to fix those?"

"Thirty septims, given that the damage done to them isn't too severe," Cutter said. "And a promise."

"What's that?" Carnius asked.

"No other smith touches them, especially that gender-confused freak Dumag gro-Bonk," Cutter said. Neither she nor Carnius noted the angry glare that Salyan shot at her for that comment. "These gauntlets will be mine to repair and mine alone. If you get them fixed anywhere else, I will know, and I will cut your throat and drink your blood."

There was no jest in the disfigured Bosmer's eyes, but Carnius handed down the coins.

"If they're in a good state tomorrow, I'll call it a deal," Carnius said.

"Good, good, excellent," Cutter nodded. "They will be finished in the morning; I cannot wait to set to work upon them. One more thing, Imperial; if you find any madness ore, I can use it to improve these gauntlets of yours, strengthen them, make them perfect. Grummites usually set up camps near deposits of it, and carry lumps of it on them. Bring me some, and I will make these gauntlets into weapons that will crush the life from all your enemies and drink deep of their blood."

"Hard to refuse, an offer like that," Carnius nodded. "All right Cutter, if I find you some madness ore, I'll bring it to you."

"Good," Cutter said. "You won't regret this, Imperial; I'll make these gauntlets into weapons any warrior would beg to wield."

"Thank you, Cutter," Carnius said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The two of them left for Bliss, to find an inn and rest, and to hold an audience with a god the next day.


	14. Lord of the Deranged

Chapter 14-Lord of the Deranged

"So you're telling me that everything in Crucible has an opposite in Bliss, and vice versa?" Carnius asked as a colourful procession from the Sisterhood of Immolation danced past them, chanting and crying in praise of what he guessed was Sheogorath. Fireballs arced from the fingers of some, while others whirled spheres of flame around them on strings and staffs, all the while accompanied with drumming. "Like there's the Frozen Brethren in Crucible for the Sisterhood of Immolation, or the different breeds of Rayat I've seen."

"It's the case with the entire Isles," Salyan replied, watching them pass along the street. She had said it was the best that he avoided getting in the way of their processions. "Everything in Mania has a counterpart in Dementia."

"So you mean there's an…an anti-Salyan somewhere in Dementia?" Carnius asked. "Somebody who hates music and is always miserable, that sort of thing?"

"It's not always that specific," Salyan said. With the procession now passed, she hurried across the street, Carnius following as she headed along a road lined with pillared and domed buildings of golden stone, decorated with flowers and flowing silk banners. "But the thing about the Islands is that they aren't really so much of a place as they are a kind of metaphor for Sheogorath; they're split down the middle, reflecting the same way he varies between manic and demented moods."

The streets of Bliss that they were walking down were much more spacious than those of Crucible, but something about them put Carnius off; where Crucible was squalid and impoverished, Bliss flaunted its wealth and opulence, bright morning sunlight glaring off the ornamentation that decorated each house. For all its hostile strangeness and carnivorous architecture, Carnius had found Crucible more welcoming than Bliss; he'd felt more like he was at home there, while Bliss seemed to sneer at him all the time. And the golden-armoured guards that patrolled the streets certainly did as much.

"Is the palace that far?" Carnius asked as they passed through a bazaar packed with people of all races. The air here had an overwhelming stench of spices, perfumes, foodstuffs and other things that he could not identify.

"Not too far," Salyan replied. She disappeared from view as she slipped around a figure covered in head to tow in sashes of red and purple silk, reappearing again as Carnius stepped around it. He knocked into it, and muttered a quick apology over his shoulder as the person in question let off a string of curses at him in a language he didn't understand.

Salyan cut through a street leading out of it, Carnius following. The road they found was lined with buildings on one side, the other a thick wall of hard stone rising skywards, blocking the view of whatever lay behind it. Salyan lead Carnius up along the street, to a series of steps up to the wall leading to a gate. Two guards, women in golden armour, were standing on either side of it.

"What is your business, mortals?" one of them asked, leaning forward on the spear she carried. Now that he thought about it, both of them looked familiar, but Carnius was unable to place them.

"We seek audience with the Lord Sheogorath," Salyan said. "My companion, Carnius Hackelt, has been bidden to meet him by the Madgod's Chamberlain, and we also bear news of a possible threat to the Isles."

The two guards exchanged a glance before one of them said; "Wait here." She opened the gate and stepped through, shutting it behind her and leaving Carnius and Salyan to stand under the stony, imperious gaze of the other guard. They were left to wait for a minute, before the gate opened once more as her comrade returned.

"Haskill says that you are permitted to speak to the Madgod," she said. "Follow me."

She lead them into a courtyard, two sides lined with pillars, walking along a pathway that cut through a carefully kept lawn towards large building that occupied the other side. The courtyard and the structure bordering, Carnius noticed after a moment, was split in two; the lawn on the other half was untended and sported twisting fungi and moulds instead of grass, and the ornamental stream of clear, pure water that they passed over on their side was a stinking quagmire on the other. Even the building, a huge, vaulted edifice decorated with banners, gargoyles and statues, with a crystal-topped tower reaching high into the sky at its back, was half constructed from the golden stone typical of Bliss and the grey of Crucible.

The golden-armoured guard opened a door on the Manic side of the palace and lead them into a large entrance. Like its outside, the innards too were split, with a luxurious red carpet running along one side that was lit with braziers burning with a crimson flame and a threadbare blue rug along the other. She pointed at a set of couches and recliners on the right hand side of the hall.

"Wait there," she said. "You will be called for shortly."

She swept out, and Carnius watched her go with a shake of his head.

"Well she was nice," he remarked.

"The Golden Saints can be a little superior with mortals," Salyan conceded. "But they're still better than the Dark Seducers."

"I'm sure they are," Carnius nodded.

They waited, the only other people in the hall a Golden Saint and a purple-skinned woman Carnius guessed was a Dark Seducer standing on either side of the doorway at the far end. Salyan leant back in her seat a little, and said; "You're not much of a drinker, are you? You only had one ale at the inn, last night. I was surprised."

"I'm a not a great person to be around when I'm drunk," Carnius replied.

"Why's that?" Salyan asked.

"Get angry, most of the time, try and pick fights or hit someone," Carnius said. "Something I got from my dad. I find it's better not to tempt fate."

Salyan nodded.

"I wonder if Sheogorath will want to hear me play," she said.

Carnius blinked at the sudden change in conversation topic.

"It would be good exposure if I played for his entire court," Salyan continued. "I could earn some coin that way."

She frowned, and added; "And we're actually going to meet the Madgod himself. I didn't think I'd ever do that, you know. Thank you, Carnius."

"It's not a problem," the gladiator said. "I need to be here anyway, after all."

The doors at the far end of the hall swung open with a creak and a pronouncement from an all too familiar voice of; "Oh, you brought a friend."

"Haskill," Carnius said, standing up. "I see you're well."

"Indeed," the chamberlain replied. "His Lordship awaits you in the throne room, if you will please follow me."

"Lead the way," Salyan said, already on her feet. Haskill nodded and stepped back through, the two travellers heading along the hallway. Salyan glanced over at Carnius and grinned, hissing; "We're actually seeing Sheogorath!"

Carnius nodded as they stepped through into the throne room of the Madgod. Like the palace's antechamber, this room too was split in twain, straddling the border between Mania and Dementia. Its end was curved and domed, but that was not what caught the eye of Carnius and Salyan; what drew the majority of their attention was the throne, a pedestal of golden marble veined with grey, ten feet in height with arms and a back protruding from its top. From a spigot on either side, a stream flowed, one runnel a channel of clear, pure water, the other a thick brown slurry. A stone snake coiled around it, tip of its tail touching the floor and its head serving as a footrest for the bearded man in purple silk finery that sat upon the throne. Sheogorath; that was beyond doubt.

"Well look who has arrived!" the Daedric Prince of madness exclaimed in a cheerful tone as the two entered, clapping his hands together. "The famous slayer of the Gatekeeper. And a friend who is not, as far as I know, famous. Are you famous, young lady?"

"Not yet, my lord," Salyan said. She attempted to curtsey, before remembering she wasn't wearing a dress and converting it into a hasty bow. "I am merely a humble maker of music."

"I see," Sheogorath said, leaning back in his throne. "Well then, seeing as you are not yet famous, would you be so good as to tell me your name?"

"Salyan Irrenius, my lord," she said, raising her head.

"Salyan Irrenius My Lord, eh? Hmm!" Sheogorath said. He stood, balancing without effort on the head of the snake that was coiled around the throne. "Your friend here has caused quite a stir, you know. Killing the Gatekeeper and enraging a very dangerous, powerful mage in the process too. Took away a rather important defence for my Isles, too. Bad news, that."

The snakes head moved with a grinding of stone, lowering Sheogorath to ground level. He hopped off, strode up to Carnius, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him face-to-face with surprising strength.

"And what do you have to say for yourself?" the Madgod snarled, enraged amber eyes with slit pupils staring into the gladiator's.

"You wanted it dead," Carnius managed after a moment. "Otherwise you would have never invited people into the Isles but put it in their way. That was a test."

Sheogorath was quiet for a few moments, squinting into Carnius' gaze, which the Imperial kept as cool as he could while face staring down a Daecric Prince. His grip was released, and Sheogorath stepped back, clapping his hands.

"Well said, well said," he exclaimed with a grin. "Why, I'm so pleased with that answer of yours I could rip Salyan Irrenius My Lord's hair off and make it into a wig. Didn't see my dear Relmyna getting quite so upset about the whole thing as she is now, but that's more my fault than yours. Well done, you passed the test."

"So what now?" Carnius said with a slow, cautious nod. "I've come here like you asked; what did you summon me for?"

"Because I need you," Sheogorath said. "Well, not you in particular, but somebody who is capable and not from the Isles. Preferably with a good head on their shoulders. You killed the Gatekeeper, and that's a start, certainly."

"And what do you need me for?" Carnius asked.

"I need your help," Sheogorath said. "It's all a little complicated, but there's trouble coming on the horizon and it's trouble I'd rather avoid."

"You mean the Greymarch?" Salyan asked. "It's coming, and you want to stop it."

"What makes you believe in that old story?" Sheogorath said, turning on the bard.

"I…we saw an Arbitrator be summoned," Salyan said. "That's one of the reasons we were here, to warn you."

"An Arbitrator, you say?" Sheogorath asked. The mirth in his voice had suddenly fled. "You're certain of this?"

"Definitely," Salyan replied. "It was only summoned for a short time, but it managed to turn a whole band of Heretics into…something else. It 'blessed' them, it said."

Sheogorath was silent, rocking back on his heels. He turned about from them, stepping away, before he said, more to himself than anyone else; "An Arbitrator here already. Deary deary me, that isn't good news at all. He must have been planning too, while he was away. Or maybe when he was here last time. Probably when he was here last time, I suspect."

He glanced around at his two visitors, and said; "You two are still here, then? Good. Well, this does complicate things; I thought I could take my time but it appears that time has taken us. Not much to waste, for either of you. So on to your first task; we need to secure the Isles now that the Gatekeeper is gone. At the moment, all sorts of riffraff are going to come through, and we don't want that. So the two of you are going to put a stop to that."

"Why?" Carnius asked.

"Why? _Why_? Why why, eh?" Sheogorath challenged, rounding on Carnius. "I'm a Daedric Prince, you know. And you are a little squishy mortal. You have to do what I say, you know."

"No I don't," Carnius said. "What's to stop me leaving this place? I don't have anything here, after all."

"That is a very, very selfish thing to say, young man, and frankly I am disappointed," Sheogorath said after a moment's silence.

"That still doesn't mean I have to stay," Carnius said. "What's here for me, then? Why should I help you?"

"Well, I could say fame, fortune and renown, but I'm not sure you really strike me as the type to be all too interested in that," Sheogorath said. "But what I do see in those eyes of yours there is more than a little regret; you've done something you'd rather you hadn't, and now you want to make up for it. And if you helped me, you would save an awful lot of innocent lives, and perhaps even a few things more important than that, and that should probably absolve you of whatever crime you committed. You'll have a chance to put things right. I won't claim to be good, Carnius, but I won't claim to be evil, either and I do have good people here in my realm. If you want, think of these errands as working for them, not me."

"Besides," Salyan added. "I could probably do with your help doing this."

Carnius glanced at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, this is my home," she said. "If you won't do it, I still will. I still should."

"Fine," Carnius said. "I'll help you, then."

"Excellent!" Sheogorath said. "Now, as I said, we need to sort out first things first; keep the Isles safe from marauders and ne'er-do-wells. And for that, we need Xedilian!"

"What's Xedilian?" Salyan asked.

"A trap," Sheogorath said. "Or alternatively, a rehabilitation facility where I can make the aforementioned marauders and ne'er-do-wells into functional citizens of the Isles. Of course, with the Gatekeeper about, I never needed it and shut the place down, but with him gone, I need something else and Xedilian fits the bill. So get over there and reactivate it, would you?"

"How?" Carnius asked.

"Ah, good point, good point," Sheogorath said. "Haskill, do you still have that book?"

"It's right here, my lord," the chamberlain said, pulling a slim volume from a pocket of his dark velvet jacket. "Assuming, of course, that these two will be able to read it."

He got a glare from Salyan as he held it out, the Bard taking it and flipping it open at a random page.

"So how do get there?" she asked. "And do we need to pick up this Attenuator of Judgement on the way, or there, or what?"

"The Attenuator is right here," Sheogorath said, holding out a hand. A staff topped with a glowing white crystal shimmered into being in his palm, and he passed it to Carnius. "As for Xedilian it's…it's somewhere in Dementia, I know that much. Hmm. Ask Sentinel, he should know."

"Sentinel?" Carnius asked.

"Oh, he keeps an eye on things for me, so to speak," Sheogorath said. "He'll know where it is. His tower's just around the back of the palace, Haskill will show you the way."  
"If I must," Haskill said.

"Well, off you go," Sheogorath said. "Time's wasting, you two. Go on!"

The two of them dithered for a moment, before Haskill said; "You heard His Lordship; follow me."

Sheogorath stepped back up onto the snake head, where it rested on the floor. It began to rise, carrying him back up to his throne. Haskill set off, and without much choice, Carnius and Salyan left, the bard stopping only a moment for a hasty bow before she followed the Chamberlain. He lead them out of a doorway at the back of the throne room, through several corridors, coming to a halt at another door.

"He is through there," he said. "There is only one opening at the top, so I'm sure even you two will be able to work that one out."

He left as Carnius opened the door to a round room dominated by a spiral stairwell. He looked up, and shook his head. They had a long climb ahead.


	15. The Watchman

I based the piece sung by Salyan on an old Irish folksong, Soul of a Harper, which has been adapted somewhat to fit with the Isles instead of Ireland.

Chapter 15-The Watchman

The rapping of Carnius' bare knuckles against the underside of the trapdoor was answered almost immediately by a deep, genial voice saying; "Come in, please!"

He pulled himself up the top of the ladder through the trapdoor, into the great glass globe at the tower's very top. He stared at the figure sitting cross-legged a few feet from him on a cushion, and the eyes of the man stared back at him.

In a deep, rich voice, Sentinel said; "Ah, you're here. I saw you coming, you know."

The most distinctive feature of Sentinel was, without a doubt, his eyes. Some people had an unusual eye colour, or a piercing gaze, but this was not so with those of Sentinel. In his case, his eyes were distinctive because he had dozens of them.

Where his hair should have been, stretching all across his head, eyeballs of every colour gazed in all directions. Some where those of men or mer, while others held slit pupils and large irises, or were deep black orbs Despite himself, Carnius stared, and several of them swivelled around to look right back.

"It's rude to stare, you know," Sentinel said with a grin.  
Carnius managed to break the sudden shock that the sight had knocked him into him, and nodded. The rest of the room that seemed to make up Sentinel's home was nothing more than floorspace, surrounded by a great ball of faceted clear crystal. Beyond that, the view crazed and distorted by the lenses, the Shivering Isles stretched. The floor itself was strewn with cushions and seats, a few low cabinets lurking on the perimeter, and there was a hookah of beaten bronze lying to one side, the pipe coiled around it like a snake.

"You're right," he said. "Sorry."

Salyan pulled herself up through the trapdoor and stared.

"Hello there," Sentinel said, grinning once more. He turned around towards a chair and slumped upon it, a disconcerting thing to see on account of him maintaining perfect eye contact as he did so. "Do you two know how many visitors I get nowadays? Not many. Not many at all."

He blinked, a wave of shutting and opening eyelids rippling across his head.

"Nice to have come company," he said. "Especially two of you. So what can I do for you both?"

"We're looking for somewhere," Salyan said. "A place called Xedilian."

"Xedilian, you say?" Sentinel asked. "Ah yes, I remember there. Used to be a busy place, back in the old days, before Relmyna finished off making that Gatekeeper of hers. I saw that fight of yours against that thing, by the way. Hell of a spectacle; usually I just watch it to see a bunch of adventurers get pounded into nothing, but actually seeing somebody beat it was something else entirely. Very impressive indeed."

"Thanks," Carnius said, wondering how this many-eyed peculiarity of a person had witnessed that. "But as we were saying; Xedilian?"

"In Dementia, if I remember right. Let me check where it is for you."

A few of the eyes on the top of his head swivelled to face a direction, and he announced; "Found it."

"How did you do that?" Carnius asked. "Magic?"

"In a sense," Sentinel replied. "It's a bit more complicated than that, you see."

"How so?" Salyan asked. "I mean, you're obviously a Daedra, so you did something, didn't you?"

"I am a Daedra, yes," Sentinel said. "Then again, I'm not, either."

Carnius shook his head.

"You've lost me," he said. "Surely you're either a Daedra or you aren't?"

"Of course not," Sentinel said. "There's an awful lot of middle ground between being a Daedra and not being a Daedra. In my case, I'm just a facet of Sheogorath."

"You mean like the angels?" Salyan asked. She saw Carnius' confused look and added; "I'll explains some other time." She glanced over to Sentinel and added in a conspiratorial tone; "He's new here."

"I know," Sentinel said, causing Salyan to blush slightly with embarrassment. "Though, I suppose I have something in common with the angels; in my case, I'm Sheogorath's omniscience."

"His omniscience?" Carnius asked.

"It's a bit of a tale," Sentinel said. "Have yourselves a seat, and I'll explain it to you. I wouldn't mind a bit of a chat before I send you off to Xedilian."

Salyan found a cushion and sat, Carnius following suit a moment later. Sentinel picked up the hookah, took its top off and peered into it before nodded. He flicked a finger, a flame dancing on its tip, and lit the small collection of hackle-lo leaf at its base. Holding the pipe, he leant back in his chair, the delight having an audience clear on his features.

"Now, in each of their realms, every one of the Daedric Princes is, for all intents and purposes, a god," Sentinel said, taking a puff and blowing out a cloud of scented smoke. "They know everything that happens there and can do anything in it, shaping and controlling it to their desires. You know what the problem with that is?"

Salyan and Carnius thought for a moment.  
"I'm having a hard time seeing it," Carnius said.

"It's dull," Sentinel replied, shaking his head. "Boring, predictable, drab, uninspiring, call it what you want, but it gets tedious, quickly. Nothing surprises you, nothing interests you and you get tired of it. So, aeons ago, in order to actually have things in the Isles be interesting for him again, Sheogorath made me, Sentinel, the Watchman of the Shivering Isles."

He leant forward, holding out the tip of the pipe as an offering. Carnius shook his head, but Salyan accepted it.

"So you're just part of the Madgod?" she asked, taking a lungful of smoke.

"Exactly," Sentinel said. "As I said earlier, his omnipotence. Of course, even then he put a few restrictions on me; I can only see the present, and for some reason I can't look underground or through walls."

"Why'd he do that, then?" Carnius asked.

"It's the Madgod," Sentinel replied with a shrug. "Who knows? He always liked putting limits on people, though, just to see how far they'd go to overcome them. He said it makes things more interesting."

That, Carnius decided, made perfect sense when you considered the character of Sheogorath.

"So Sheogorath's still all powerful in the Isles, then?" he asked.

"I suppose so," Sentinel said. "He just chooses not to use that power. It makes things more interesting for him. The only thing he doesn't have the power to stop is something like another Daedric Prince, or an Aedra."

"Like Jyggalag," Salyan said, to which Sentinel nodded.

"Thinking of which, we need to get to Xedilian," Carnius said. "Activate it, help keep the Isles safe. Where is it?"

"I'll tell you," Sentinel said. "In exchange for one thing; your friend carries a lyre, and it's been some time since I heard some music. You play me a song, Salyan, and I'll tell you where to find Xedilian."

Salyan nodded, pulling her lyre free. She plucked a few strings, hummed a few lines of a tune for a moment, and started playing a melody.

"Oh, they say 'tis a hanging that soon I will be," she sang. "My body twisting from yonder mushroom tree. For daring to dream that a harper could sing free, I now die, for Order's hands end me.

"Yet the strings of my harp will never be stilled, while the land of Mania lies over the hill, for the music of the Isles is their strength and their will, and the soul of the harper nought can ever kill.

"Oh the tyrant king on his cold crystal throne, fears song's freedom he never has known. Our bright Shiv'ring passion comes through in the tone, so he orders it silenced and broods all alone.

"Yet the strings of my harp will never be stilled, while the land of Mania lies over the hill, for the music of the Isles is their strength and their will, and the soul of the harper nought can ever kill.

"He'll string out my guts and drag me on the lane, blood streaming on out of my open veins. I'll kick and I'll scream in my terrible pain, and as I die my blood the ground shall red stain.

"Yet the strings of my harp will never be stilled, while the land of Mania lies over the hill, for the music of the Isles is their strength and their will, and the soul of the harper nought can kill.

"For one of the road, death holds no sting, 'tis another adventure, a wondrous thing. And I know that my music shall evermore ring, in the hill and the rivers of Mania's spring.

"Yet the strings of my harp will never be stilled, while the land of Mania lies over the hill, for the music of the Isles is their strength and their will, and the soul of the harper nought can ever kill."

There was silence in the crystal-walled room that Sentinel called home, before the quasi-Daedra nodded. He blew out a cloud of smoke that he had inhaled.

"Well, that's fair," he said. "You gave me my song, so I'll give you the location of Xedilian. You have a map?"

"Right here," Carnius said, slipping the folded parchment from his pocket. Sentinel examined it for a moment, before opening one of his cabinets and pulling forth a quill and a pot of ink. He wrote something on the map and handed it back to him.

"We have to go back to Dementia _again_?" Salyan asked, looking over Carnius' shoulder at the mark Sentinel had made, at a place called 'Madgod's boot'.

"I'm afraid you do," Sentinel said.

"It'll be fine, Salyan," Carnius said. "Dementia isn't so bad, anyway. Might be a bit gloomy, but it's alright."

"Says you," Salyan said. "But I suppose it needs doing."

Carnius stood and nodded to Sentinel.

"Thanks for your help," he said.

"A pleasure," the strange being replied. "Please come again soon, the both of you; I enjoy your company."

"We will," Salyan said. "And I'll play you another piece when we do."

They made their farewells and opened the trapdoor for the stairwell, bid sent on their way with a promise from Sentinel that he would keep an eye or three on them during their travels.

"Well he was nice," Salyan said as they decided down the stairwell. "Cheerful. Helpful too."

Carnius nodded as they revolved down the stairs.

"I know a place in Bliss where we can get some travel supplies, by the way," Salyan said. "And we can pick up your gauntlets from Cutter's, too. If we get everything together we can be on our way tomorrow."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Carnius said as they reached the bottom of the stairwell. He pushed open the door, and glanced at the corridor they were in. "Which way was it?"

"Left, I think," Salyan said.

They made their way through the back rooms of the palace, the kitchens and laundry rooms and servant's quarters that the great building relied on to support its few rich owners, and they found an exit from the structure that was clearly meant for staff. Together, they made their way around the front of the building and out of the courtyard, into the cramped, twisted streets of Crucible. Finding Cutter's forge took longer than expected, but before long they reached it.

Carnius pushed open the door to the building and glanced around at the plethora of blades and other instruments of bloodshed that adorned its innards. The fire in the hearth was crackling low, but the smith was nowhere to be seen.

"Cutter?" he called. "Are you there?"

His answer was a husky moan and a low, breathy panting from one side of the building, from a room just out of his view. Frowning, Carnius and Salyan rounded the corner, and it was there they found Cutter. Her eyes were rolled back in their sockets as she twisted the tip of a dagger into the flesh of her arm, an expression of pure ecstasy on her features as the limb was worried by the blade, cheeks flushed and a light sheen of sweat dusting her skin.

It was one of the most disturbingly erotic things Carnius had ever seen.

After a moment of horrified enthrallment, Salyan cleared her throat. Cutter jumped, startled out of her activity, pulling the dagger free with a wet squelch.

"Madgod!" she exclaimed, grabbing the wound as blood began to run down her arm. "I wasn't expecting customers."

The tips of her fingers glowed with arcane energy as she shut the wound, giving them both baleful looks in the meantime.

"You're here about your gauntlets, aren't you?" the bosmer said, waiting a few moments for the injury to suture itself shut.

"I am," Carnius nodded, feeling acutely embarrassed despite himself. "I'll collect them, and then we'll go."

"Agreed," Salyan said. "We have things we need to do."

"Of course, of course," Cutter said. Satisfied that she was no longer bleeding for the moment and ignoring the ribbons of crimson that had snaked down her arm, she headed to another part of her shop, gesturing for Carnius and Salyan to follow as she flexed her fingers. She unlocked a chest, and drew the two gauntlets from within. She gave a quiet snort of amusement. "I'd almost like to keep these for myself, you know."

"They're not for sale," Carnius said, holding out his hand for them. A look of reluctant displeasure on her features, Cutter placed them in his palm.

"Remember our agreement," she said as Carnius examined them. "These gauntlets come back to me for repair and me alone. If any other smith touches them…"

She ran the tip of the dagger along her throat.

"I know," Carnius said, refusing to be intimidated.

They left, stepping out into the contorted maze of Crucible's streets.

"I know a few places in Bliss where we can get the supplies we need, by the way," Salyan said. "I could do with a few health and magicka potions, for a start."

"Lead the way, then," Carnius nodded.

The next few hours were taken up with scouting around shops and market stalls within Bliss, haggling over prices of food, potions and other supplies. Carnius couldn't shake the feeling that they could probably get them cheaper in Crucible, but decided against voicing that opinion for Salyan's sake. There was really no point getting into an argument about where they shopped.

The sun was setting by the time they were finished, and they made their way through the streets of Bliss for the Choosy Beggar, for a meal and a night's sleep. As they entered Raven Biter called them over to the bar, the proprietor of the inn holding an envelope in his hand.

"A courier left this for you, Carnius," the Argonian said as the two approached. "Not sure what it's about, but he asked me to pass it on to you."

"Thanks," Carnius said. He slid his finger under the wax seal and broke it, unfolding it. His brows knitted in concentration as he began to read, Salyan peering at it over his shoulder.

"I wonder who that old friend of yours is," she said after a few moments.

"What?" Carnius said, concentration broken.

"The 'old friend' who sent this to you," she said. "You know, at the bottom."

"I hadn't read that far yet," Carnius admitted. "I was only on the second sentence."

"Just give it here," Salyan said.

A look of wounded pride on his face, Carnius handed it over.

"'Dear Carnius Hackelt,'" Salyan read. "'I hope this letter finds you in good health now that you have arrived in the Isles, and I wish to extend my congratulations to you on defeating the Gatekeeper and gaining entry. I would not be surprised if you were finding this place somewhat strange, and I am sure that you would appreciate a helping hand in whatever you are attempting to achieve here. With that in mind, I would like to meet with you in order to offer any support that I am able to; if you are interested, please come to the Golden Baliwog this evening to meet me. Yours, an old friend.' Very enigmatic, certainly."

Carnius nodded.

"What's the Golden Baliwog?" he asked.

"A, ah, gentleman's club," Raven Biter supplied. "Very exclusive, very fancy. Caters for the high-ups, usually; Duke Thadon himself goes there, even."

"Might as well go there and see what this is about," Carnius said.

"Are you sure?" Salyan asked. "It might be a trap."

"Why would somebody want to ambush us?" Carnius pointed out. "I've only just arrived here and we've hardly caused a stir. Unless…"

"Unless what?" Salyan asked.

"Relmyna Venerim," Carnius said. "She didn't take kindly to me killing the Gatekeeper; swore revenge. If there was anybody who would want to do that, it would be her."

Salyan nodded, before she said; "But knowing her, she would probably do something like build some kind of specially made Flesh Atronach creature just to kill you. So it's probably not an ambush."

"And yet all of a sudden I don't feel better," Carnius remarked.

"So I am assuming that you won't be eating or staying here tonight?" Raven Biter asked.

"Depends," Carnius said, to which the Argonian shrugged.

"I'll hold onto your rooms for a while, yet," he said. "Just don't stay too long or you'll need to find somewhere else to sleep."

The Golden Baliwog was easy to find, the building somewhat of a landmark that Salyan tracked down through Bliss' twilit streets with little trouble. It was a large mansion building, off the street up a driveway, surrounded by a small garden with the perimeter marked by an iron fence. There was a pair of Orsimer guarding the entrance to grounds, one of them leaning on the head of a heavy warhammer forged of some golden-coloured metal as the two of them approached he stood, suspicion in his eyes; they didn't look like the regular sort of customer, Carnius guessed.

"What's your business here?" the Orc challenged.

"My name's Carnius Hackelt," Carnius said, letter in hand in case it was needed. "I was invited here."

"You're him?" the Orc asked. "Good. Come with me, please. Gorak, keep an eye on the gate while I'm gone."

"What else was I doing?" the other bouncer said.

They were lead up the driveway by Orsimer, past the ornamental shrubbery that decorated it. At one point they had to step aside as a Rayet-drawn carriage clattered up the drive, pulling to a halt before the mansion's entrance. A servant waiting there pulled open the door and helped the carriage's passenger down and through the large, ornamented doorway as the vehicle headed around the rear of the building to wait.

The bouncer lead them through the doorway and into an atrium hall of some kind. The room itself was large and extravagant, decorated with velvet curtains, portraits, and a stairwell leading up to a balcony above, covered with a lush red carpet. From the room beyond the sound of conversation and music filtered through.

"He's here," the Orc remarked to a Bosmer standing behind a mahogany desk off to one side, nodding to Carnius. The Elf nodded and hurried off after a moment, and the Orc turned back to Carnius and Salyan. With a brusque "wait here" he left.

"Well, here we are," Salyan said, looking around. "Noble certainly know how to have a good time, don't they?"

Carnius nodded. He'd been in places like this before, a privilege afforded to him by his celebrity status as a gladiator and if there was one thing they could do, it was host a party.

The clerk reappeared back behind the desk, and said; "If you would be so good to wait just a minute."

"Fine," Carnius said.

"Excellent," the Bosmer said.

He began to say something else, but Carnius' attention was grabbed by the person who had appeared at the top of the balcony. His eyes widened.

"Carnius," Her Ladyship smiled as she descended the stairs. "I'm so glad you finally made it here."


	16. The Golden Baliwog

Chapter 16-The Golden Baliwog

"You know," Carnius said as he looked over the theatre below them. "You're probably the last person I would have expected to see here."

The room that he, Salyan and Her Ladyship were looking down upon was a large, opulent one, largely populated by groups of nobles. Dice were clattering on the tables that occupied its floorspace, while servants went to and fro with trays of drinks and foodstuffs. At a stage occupying the far end, women and men in varying states of undress were dancing and being watched by the hungry eyes of the clientele. Now and again a customer would point at one of the dancers and give a few orders to a servant; dancer and client, sometimes more than one of each, would disappear into a side doorway.

"These are the Isles, Carnius," Her Ladyship replied. "I generally find that it's a good idea to not expect anything except the worst when it comes to them; it's the best way to avoid any nasty surprises."

"Can't argue with that," Carnius nodded. "Still, my point stands; how on Nirn did you manage to end up here?"

"I was invited through quite some time ago," Her Ladyship said. "Nowadays I move back and forth between the Isles and Nirn to accommodate business and to enjoy the occasional Arena match."

"Business," Carnius nodded, looking back down at the room. "Never pegged you as the sort to be working as a brothel madam. I always thought you were a noble of some kind."

"I can be both, you know," Her Ladyship replied. "I've own quite a large amount of land on the Laughing Coast and, if I do say so myself, have rather considerable political clout here in New Sheoth."

Carnius shook his head.

"Impossible," he said. "No noble would ever associate with someone in your job aside from personal pleasure; they'd sneer at you, wouldn't they? New money, like me. And all earned in a low-down way, too."

"In Cyrodiil, perhaps," Her Ladyship said. "We do things rather differently in the Isles."

"Can't argue with that last point," Carnius said. "So if you're one of the noble types, what's with the Golden Baliwog, then?"

"The Baliwog is just the tip of the iceberg, really," Her Ladyship said. "This is the most expensive of the brothels I run, but it's far from the only establishment I have; every whorehouse in New Sheoth and the Isles is owned by me."

"Pretty impressive," Carnius said. "How did you manage that?"

"Cunning, intimate knowledge of the business and the desire to do some good," Her Ladyship replied. "The men and women working in my establishments are paid fairly, looked after and protected. Their children, who are all but invariable in this sort of job, are educated and if their parents wish to leave at any point they are allowed to; this business isn't going to go away, so as far as I can see it might as well be regulated and have some standards applied to it."

"So it's philanthropy, then," Carnius said.

"Indeed it is," Her Ladyship said. "Come, I'll show you and Salyan around the place."

The two of them stepped away from the balcony, heading for the stairwell. After a moment, Her Ladyship glanced over her shoulder to where Salyan was still leaning on the rail.

"Salyan, my dear, are you coming?" she asked.

"What?" the bard asked, looking up in sudden surprise. "Oh, right, sorry. I'll be right with you. I was just a bit distracted."

"Of course," Her Ladyship said as Salyan caught up with them. She lead them down the stairs, and into the bustling main hall. The staff parted before her with respectful nods, and she gestured to one of the gambling tables. "This is one of the Baliwog's main sources of income, along with our prostitutes. We tend to be a little more generous in allowing people to win than most gambling den, though."

"They spend the money on a whore anyway, don't they?" Carnius said.

"Exactly," Her Ladyship replied. "Many of our customers have great success at the gambling table yet still seem to come home poorer than when they arrived."

"Clever," Carnius said.

"Your Ladyship!" one of the clients called, noticing the presence of the brothel's madam. "I was wondering if I might have a word with you concerning some business."

"I'm afraid I'm entertaining a guest," Her Ladyship replied. "Perhaps another night, Kalran."

"A shame," the guest said, before he glanced at Carnius. "Perhaps him and I could share your attention?"

"Not tonight," Her Ladyship replied. "Now don't let me keep you; there are more than a few women here who I am sure you can lavish your attentions upon."

She stepped away, and noticed Carnius' raised eyebrow.

"Don't give me that look," she said. "It's part of the job. And, I'll admit, one that can be quite enjoyable at times."

"Suppose I used to kill people for money," Carnius conceded with a shrug.

"Indeed," Her Ladyship said, opening a side door from the main room. "Through here, if you will."

The room that it opened onto was a far plainer corridor, and its main occupants appeared to be staff and servants. Her Ladyship took a left, Salyan and Carnius following as she led them down one way. People stepped out of her way as before, and she stopped one of the women as she was walking by.

"Ysren," she said. "Would you mind taking Salyan with you and showing her around?"

The woman glanced at Salyan, and that gave Carnius an opportunity to see her face. He started as he saw the too-upturned nose, the gaunt cheeks, pale skin and red-orange eyes.

"Is she new here?" Ysren asked.

"Just a guest," Her Ladyship replied. "She isn't working here."

She glanced over at Salyan and added; "Unless you'd like to, of course."

"Er, no," Salyan shook her head.

Her Ladyship nodded, and said; "Very well, then, she's our guest."

"Of course," Ysren nodded, smiling at Salyan. "Come on, Salyan, let me show you around."

The two of them left, Carnius staring after them. Her Ladyship turned to leave, and paused for a moment as she saw Carnius wasn't following.

"Aren't you coming?" she asked.

"You do realise," Carnius said. "That Ysren, who you just sent Salyan off with, is a vampire, yes?"

"Yes," Her Ladyship said. "What of it?"  
"A vampire," Carnius repeated.

"She's a vampire, yes," Her Ladyship said, a look of confusion on her face. "Oh, right, of course. My apologies, I often forget the way Nirnians react to the undead."

"And vampires are perfectly normal in the Isles?" Carnius asked.

"We rub shoulders with daedra on a daily basis here, and random acts of violence are a hallmark of our society," Her Ladyship replied. "People drinking blood in order to survive is rather mundane for us."

"Should have guessed," Carnius said, shaking his head. "So why does she work here, then?"

"For a start, she does an excellent job of managing the place," Her Ladyship said. "Which is especially useful when I'm not here to do it myself. And secondly, there's quite a number of our clientele who enjoy a woman who's cold and clammy to the touch, and her ability to lie as stiff as a board is quite often in demand."

She saw the expression on Carnius' face.

"Believe me, I had just as hard a time adjusting to this place," she said. "But it can be hospitable enough in its own way, once you get used to its oddities."

"Oddities like necophilia," Carnius said.

"Among other things, yes," Her Ladyship replied. "If I'm frank, that's hardly the worst of it. Besides, it's an alternative to digging up graves; most families find that rather upsetting, after all. There are certain bragging rights to be invoked with that, too; we are the only brothel in the Isles to have a vampire working there. The only other establishments that can boast such a thing are Sanguine's realms and Coldhabour, and Bal's realm is hardly that hospitable."

Carnius shrugged. There was little else he could do in light of such information.

"So why did you send Salyan off?" he asked.

"I'm sorry?" Her Ladyship asked.

"You said you were going to show us around," Carnius said.

"Yes, I did, didn't I?" Her Ladyship said. "I was hoping to talk to you in private, though, and I realised that now is a good time to."

"Fair enough, I suppose," Carnius conceded. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"A number of things," Her Ladyship replied, setting off down the corridor again. "We'll have plenty of privacy in my personal chambers."

"You don't think people would talk?" Carnius asked.

"About what? A brothel madam inviting a man into her bedroom?" Her Ladyship said. "The Isles will be alight with the scandal!"

She reached an unadorned doorway, and pulled a key out from where it was tucked in the sleeve of her dress. She unlocked it and pushed it open, revealing a large, sumptuously decorated bedroom beyond; every item of furniture within it was well made and lavishly decorated, and at the end a large bed built to house more that two lay. Everything within, from the soft red wallpaper to the flowers arranged in vases was designed to lend it an air of comfort and sensuality.

"Please, take a seat," Her Ladyship said. She clapped her hands together and the candles placed about the room flickered into life as flames danced on their wicks. She headed over to a cabinet. "A drink of any kind? There's wine, brandy, whiskey, flin, matze, even some skooma if you feel so inclined."

"I'll be fine," Carnius said.

"Suit yourself," Her Ladyship said, opening its door and pulling out a bottle of wine. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to have myself a goblet of Surilie Brothers' Three-Ninety-Nine; I have a terrible weakness for the stuff."

She poured herself a glass and sat. The long pin the back of her bun was pulled out, and she shook her head as her blonde hair fell about her shoulders.

"So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Carnius asked.

"A few things," Her Ladyship said. "Mainly, however, I feel I owe you somewhat of an apology."

"What for?" Carnius asked.

"It's somewhat complicated," Her Ladyship said. "But the fact is that Sheogorath and we in the Madgod's court have all seen the Greymarch coming for some time now. Jyggalag will march upon the Isles, he will crush the life from them and leave nought but ash in his wake; quite understandably, none of us want that to happen."

"Hold on a moment," Carnius said. "I've heard all this talk of Greymarches and Jyggalag but nobody's actually explained any of this to me beyond Salyan saying some things about old legends and armies, and even that wasn't all that clear."

"Of course," Her Ladyship said. "I should have realised that you wouldn't know much of it. The Greymarch is an event that occurs on the Isles every few thousand years, an invasion of unprecedented scale lead by Jyggalag, the Daedric Prince of order. Every time it happens, the Isles are razed, their population massacred and Sheogorath is forced to rebuild them. Naturally, I'm not particularly keen on that happening; this place is my home and it's my duty to protect the people I rule."

"But this is Sheogorath's realm," Carnius said. "Sentinel was saying to me earlier that Sheogorath is omnipotent here; he could stop the Greymarch easily, couldn't he?"

"Unfortunately not," Her Ladyship said. "The problem is the nature of Sheogorath and Jyggalag; Sheogorath cannot stop Jyggalag, or directly prevent his minions, because Jyggalag and Sheogorath are one and the same."

"I'm going to have to risk pointing out the obvious here, but the two of them seem like polar opposites," Carnius said.

"Indeed," Her Ladyship said. "Before the Isles were created, you see, there was only Jyggalag and no Sheogorath; the Prince of order was a powerful force in Oblivion, and the other princes feared his might. So they cursed him into becoming Sheogorath, the embodiment of that which he despises, and Jyggalag only gains respite from this once every millennium when Sheogorath once again transforms into him. From there, he calls forth his armies and Arbitrators from the limbo realm they inhabit to march upon and destroy the Isles."

Carnius nodded.

"I can see why you'd want to stop that, then," he said. "But why does that mean you owe me an apology?"

"Well, around twenty or so years ago, Sheogorath gathered his court," Her Ladyship said. "In a rare moment of lucidity, he told us of the Greymarch and the threat the Isles face, and gave us an order; 'find me a champion. Find me somebody not of the Isles who is worthy of stopping the Greymarch and saving this place.'"

"So that explains why you visited the Imperial Arena," Carnius said. "You were looking for talent."

"Indeed I was," Her Ladyship replied. "Though admittedly, I have always found something terribly exciting about watching two people try and kill each other for my entertainment. But a decade and a half ago, at the start of a match between two humble Pit Dogs, I saw a young man no more than fifteen years of age enter the ring. He fought with his fists, which was certainly a first, and even though his choice in weapons was unconventional, he won. And I saw something in him; potential, raw though it was, somebody who fought with their mind as much as their arm, who appeared to be a good man when I finally had a chance to speak to him and of noble character."

"So your sponsorship and the funding that you gave me…that was just so I might one day come here?"

"You were a long term hope," Her Ladyship said. "But I knew that were of the right sort of character for what Sheogorath needed, and that all that was required was to somehow get you to the Isles of your own accord."

"And me becoming Grand Champion was all part of your plan?" Carnius asked. "You mean Agronak being killed by me was-"

"I had no idea that you were planning to enter the ring to fight for the title of Grand Champion until the Arena announced it officially," Her Ladyship said. "Believe me when I say that I had no part in Agronak's death. Yes, I'll admit that it was useful in giving you the push you needed to come to the Isles, but it certainly wasn't my plan, and the timing of him dying and Sheogorath opening his doorway was fortunate coincidence and little else. In fact, I don't think the Madgod is even aware that I had a hand in getting you here; he opened that door out of desperation more than anything else."

Carnius leant back and sighed.

"Are you alright?" Her Ladyship asked.

"It's just…this," Carnius said. "Just over a week ago I was Grand Champion of the Arena, and life was normal. Suddenly I find myself in a world full of insane people, where everything tries to kill me and the one familiar face here turns out to be in league with a Nine-damned Daedra, and who had been manipulating me for fifteen years!"

"Come now, I was not _manipulating_ you!" Her Ladyship snapped. "The Isles needs somebody and I thought you might be that person. Yes, I realise that what I did was somewhat unfair, and I didn't like steering you along a path that wasn't necessarily the one you were destined for, but I did it for all the right reasons. I'm sorry if you're angry about that and I can understand why you are, but please don't doubt that I'm trying to do the right thing."

"Right thing?" Carnius asked. "Your Ladyship, Sheogorath is a Daedra. Daedra are evil. Helping them isn't doing the right thing."

"Evil?" Her Ladyship asked. "Really? You've met Sheogorath, Carnius. Would you call him evil? And what about Salyan? This is her home; if the Greymarch comes then she'll be killed. Does she deserve that?"

"I…" Carnius was thrown. "Well, she could leave."

"And I suppose all of us could evacuate the Isles?" Her Ladyship asked. "Uproot ourselves from a place where we have lived for centuries and live as a displaced country, going where? Nowhere in Nirn would take us, not if we've associated with Daedra, and I somehow doubt the other Daedric Princes would be particularly accommodating for an entire nation of refugees."

She shook her head.

"Our only real hope is to trust in whatever plan Sheogorath has to see the Isles through the Greymarch, and to hope that there's somebody to stand and fight it when it come," Her Ladyship said. "And when that day comes I'll certainly be one of those taking up arms, but I'd feel better doing such a thing in the knowledge that I'm not fighting for a lost cause."

Carnius was quiet for a few moments, before he said; "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Her Ladyship said, smiling. "I'm sure you can do this."


	17. Xedilian

Chapter 17-Xedilian

He found Salyan the next morning, the bard exuberant and cheerful after a night spent with the Baliwog's staff. She had been treated, if not like a queen, then like somebody of notable celebrity and had managed to get to know the rest of the staff in the space of one night. She had been keen to show off her lacquered fingernails and had dyed her blonde hair an alarming shade of purple, and when they had left the Baliwog she had bid both the bouncers farewell by their names.

"You had a good time last night then, I'm guessing," Carnius said.

"Oh, it was great," Salyan said as the two of them headed through the streets, cutting through a bustling market square on their way to Crucible's gate out of the city, the road from which would take them to Xedilian. "I met a whole load of people, made friends, indulged in a little vanity. It was fun. Oh, and what about you and Her Ladyship?"

"We talked a while," Carnius said. "There was some air clearing that she needed to do, it turned out."

"You talked a while?" Salyan asked. "Is that all?"

"Just about," Carnius said.

The bard stopped, and a hooded dunmer who had been walking just behind her bumped into her. The elf snapped a curse as both Carnius and Salyan's hands went to their purses, and the mer glared at them for a moment before deciding they weren't worth the trouble, slinking away.

"Really?" she asked. "You get invited into the private chambers of a beautiful, charismatic, rich noble who clearly has her eye on you and you just talk?"

"She doesn't have her eye on me," Carnius protested.

"Yes she does," Salyan said, shaking her head. "That's why I left you to it and had Ysren show me around last night; I wasn't wanted, that much was obvious. Though Ysren was nice."

She set out again, adding; "So why didn't anything happen, then? You're not into men or something, are you?"

"What?" Carnius asked, following her once more. "No, I'm not."

"Alright, I'm just asking," Salyan said. "Still, that didn't answer my question."

"She's a toff," Carnius said. "I'm nobody. I didn't think she'd want anything to do with me like that."

"Blind s'wit," Salyan muttered as they reached the gate that marked the divide between Crucible and Bliss. Somehow, Carnius felt more at home as they entered the intestinal, gloomy warrens of Bliss' poorer twin.

"I heard that," he replied.

"Good," Salyan said, though the grin she flashed him said she wasn't serious. "Still, I can't say I blame her for it, even if you're just being blinkered about it; you're attractive enough in a kind of rugged, battered way, I suppose."

She felt the need to clear the air, and added; "And before you ask, sorry, I'm not interested. You're old enough to be my father."

"I'm thirty," Carnius protested.

"Alright, maybe not old enough to be my father, but that's still a good nine years between us," Salyan said.

"Fine by me," Carnius said, before he sensed an opportunity to change the subject. "Thinking of parents, though, what sort of family do you have, Salyan?"

"Me? None," the bard replied. "I was brought up in an orphanage, so I didn't know them. I didn't like it, and it didn't like me, so I ran away. I found my way to the Isles when I was just small. What about yours?"

His parents. Yes, those two. His mother had been a quiet, demure, uncomplaining woman. Carnius had loved her, and she had loved him, and he'd taken good care of her as a dutiful son should when quietly, demurely and uncomplainingly, she had passed on. His father, though, had been different. His father had been his hero, a boisterous giant of a man whose sheer personality would fill whatever room he was in. He had been respected by the others on the waterfront, and even though he had enemies they knew well enough to leave him be; he was a legendary brawler, and they had called him One-Punch Orannic for good reason. He was a huge arm sweeping his son up in an embrace as he entered the home, still in the thick work clothes he wore when shifting cargo, ones that stank of oil and sweat and grease and a thousand other things. He was a loud, proud and boastful declaration that Carnius was going to make it big and grand in the world. He was an angry, terrifying, pitiful monster that stumbled in late at night, struck angry blows and wept with regret the following morning, swearing on the Nine it would never happen again. When he was happy, the world glowed and resounded with bellows of laughter. When he was angry, his knuckles felt like stones contained by skin. And when he was laid out on the street, a stained, greasy coat covering his head so that his weeping wife couldn't see the brains and blood seeping out onto the ground, his fifteen year-old son had looked at the body, hands curled into fists and decided that having his brains smashed out in a tavern brawl had been the stupidest way to die he could imagine.

"They were good people," Carnius said after a moment. "Neither of them are around any more."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Salyan said. She grimaced as she hopped over a stinking puddle of stagnant, dirty water that had pooled in the middle of the lane, shaking her head at the filth. "For Sheogorath's sake, why do people live like this?"

"Because they can't afford better, maybe?" Carnius suggested.

"Maybe," Salyan said. "Though there are still plenty of people here who could afford to go to Mania and Bliss. I just don't understand why they don't."

Carnius just rolled his eyes as they reached the gate out of the city. It was open, a pair of guards on either side of it with their weapons sheathed. The road that lead from Crucible to the rest of Dementia stretched before them through the decaying swamplands that bordered the city, winding between the pools of stagnant water like a worm. Without delay, they set out for Xedilian.

It had taken them three days to reach it, this time without the help of any amenable merchants, but they had finally reached Xedilian. It appeared to be nought but a doorway built into a mountainside, overshadowed by the twisting roots of a colossal mushroom tree, a bridge of white stone leading up to it. The tree's sides were slick and glistening with the drizzle that had been falling since morning, and the pair of them huddled underneath one of the roots as they looked over at the entrance.

"So this is Xedilian," Salyan remarked, looking at the doorway. "It's all underground then, it seems."

"Looks like it is," Carnius said. "Do you still have that manual?"

"Right here?" Salyan said, pulling the book from her pack. "It says that when the focus crystals are all in place on the judgment nexuses, you should 'strike thrice the Resonator of Judgment with the Stave of Attenuation, and bring life to Xedilian.'"

"Judgement," Carnius remarked, looking at the Attenuator from where he had slung it on his belt. "Wasn't that Arbitrator thing we saw calling itself 'Judgement'?"

"Yes," Salyan said after a few moments. "Yes it was. But I'm sure Sheogorath knows what he's doing."

"I wish I could be as sure as you about that," Carnius said. Salyan just shrugged.

"So," she said, looking at the cavernous maw that was the doorway into Xedilian. "Shall we go in?"

"Alright," Carnius said. "Yeah, let's."

After a hesitant moment, they set out along the bridge. Something about the place seemed to put their nerves on their edge, as if they were walking into a trap; as they stepped through the doors that lead into it, the portals half open, they could not shake the feeling that they were stepping into the mouth of some massive stone predator, ancient and malicious.

They stopped at the entrance, Dementia's weak, cloud-filtered sunlight not reach far past the threshold. Both of them pulled torches from their packs, and lit them after a few strikes from tinder and flint. The floor of the entranceway was weather-stained and eroded, but what caught their attention were the bones scattered across the floor, and the skull that was suspended by a rope, hanging at head height. Blue paint of some kind had been daubed over it, forming markings or runes of some kind.

"Grummites," Salyan said. "I should have guessed that they would be here."

"Grummites?" Carnius asked.

"They're a kind of…vermin, I suppose," Salyan said. "They can use tools and weapons and a little magic, but they aren't properly intelligent. And they always end up infesting caves and old ruins like this one; I suppose they make good homes for them."

"Makes me think of goblins," Carnius remarked.

They descended the staircase that lead into the rest of the complex, two morsels walking down the structure's gullet. More filth and debris from the Grummite squatters was scattered along the floor, while symbols were daubed on the grey-black stone of the walls. The stairway lead onto a large room, a giant, high-ceilinged box with its centre occupied by a large, raised pedestal. Atop that, a shining white crystal twice the height of a man sat, looking as if it had burst upwards from the ground like snapped bone through split skin. Three large doorways occupied every other wall of the room, leading off to other parts of the facility.

"If the guide has it right," Salyan said. "That's the Resonator of Judgement right there. Strike it thrice, I suppose."

Carnius unslung the Attenuator and tapped its crystalline head against the Resonator. There was a faint ringing, but nothing more.

"So I suppose that that means the focus crystals aren't where they're supposed to be," he said after a few moments.

"Looks like it," Salyan said. "And if I know Grummites, they're probably the ones who have them; they'll grab anything that shines."

"So let's go and put them back," Carnius said, cracking his knuckles.

They took the left doorway, into a corridor occupied by a looming totem pole that had been hacked from an old pillar. They skirted around it, scanning for any possible threat that might emerge into the circle of torchlight that surrounded them.

Rounding a corner, they found an enemy. There were a few crude structure of carved wooden poles, mud and animals hides around a pool of water in a large square room, all hung with fetishes and daubed with paint symbols. Within them, a gaggle of flabby, froglike creatures were gathered around a fire, something turning on a spit, and they turned as Carnius and Salyan came into view.

For a moment, the two groups froze, before one of them howled and they grabbed crude weapons of stone and wood, shrieking warcries. Clubs and axes were raised as the mob charged Carnius and Salyan, the Grummites yelling their fury.

Salyan plucked a string of her lyre, and a few of the yowls of fury turned to terrified shrieks, some of the creatures cowering in sudden, hesitant terror. The others, three of them, barrelled forwards towards the two as Carnius backed away.

The first one that reached him hacked down with an overarm swing from an axe. Carnius blocked its haft with his left wrist, the armoured vambrace of his gauntlet soaking up the impact, and reached under his arm with his right hand. His other gauntlet closed over its arm and pulled, staggering it before he stepped forwards, pulling the axe blade with him. The stone weapon was crude, but it was enough to hack into its stomach, sharpened flint ripping its guts free.

He barrelled into the nearest Grummite as it swung at him with a club, slamming into it shoulder first as he stepped into its swing. He grabbed it and shoved it into one of its fellows, sending them both tumbling, and glanced back towards those that Salyan had cast a terror spell on.

They had rallied, regaining their courage, but the bard sent another bolt of arcane energy buzzing towards them. This one hit the lead amphibian, and it turned on its fellows with a yell of fury. Before the other two knew what it was doing, it split the skull of the first with its axe and hacked at the second one with wild fury.

The other two had regained their feet, and charged Carnius as one. The first yowled as it stabbed forward with a dagger of flint, the second swinging with its club, and Carnius stepped back, knocking the knife away and using his gauntlet to absorb the impact of the cudgel's swipe. He grunted as he felt the shock ripple down to the bone, pushing aside the pain as the one armed with the knife stabbed at him again.

He stepped to its right side, grabbing its wrist with its right hand and its slimy, wiry bicep with his left. Another step put the knife-wielding Grummite in the way of its fellow with the club, and he pushed with his right hand and pulled with its left, its own knife stabbing into its throat. He let the body collapse as sludgy brown blood leaked from its throat, facing the remainder of the amphibious beings.

The one with the axe, now recovered from Salyan's frenzy spell, bounded forwards, already bleeding from cuts inflicted by its dead fellows. It fell upon Carnius in a fury, swinging its weapon towards him in a sideways swipe to his midriff. He blocked, but the club of the other Grummite slammed into his shoulder, the impact enough to dent his pauldron and send him stumbling back, grunting with pain.

Salyan stepped in before the two Grummites could capitalise on their advantage, plucking her lyre's strings and sending a wave of noise in their direction. They were hurled back by the blast of arcane energy and sound, one of them landing on its neck with a crack. It did not rise, and the one with the axe, now disarmed, struggled to pull itself to its feet. Carnius reached it as it was halfway to standing and slammed his fist down on the top of its skull. The bone collapsed in with a squelch.

"That looks like the last of them for now," Salyan observed, glancing at the doorway ahead in case any more Grummites were to emerge to investigate the commotion. She frowned as she spotted something, crouching next to one of the dead amphibians as Carnius massaged the shoulder that had taken a hit from a club. "What's this?"

She held up a chunk of stone, one that glittered with a deep bronze colour.

"I think it's madness ore," she said. "Cutter said Grummites carry it on them, sometimes."

"Might be," Carnius said, peering at it. "Hold onto it, just in case."

Salyan nodded, slipping it into her pack, and glanced up at Carnius.

"Your shoulder alright?" she asked.

"It's going to bruise and I'll need a smith to fix up my armour, but I'll live," Carnius said. "They got anything else worth taking?"

Salyan glanced over the other bodies.

"Not really," she said. "Let's go."

The next few rooms housed only more Grummites, the stone dungeons now fetid and stinking thanks to the occupation of their semi-sapient squatters. Every one of the creatures attacked them without hesitation, swinging with crude stone weapons or shooting flint-headed arrows at them. It was in the last room of the branch, a larger one than the rest, and there was only one Grummite within it, standing by a pedestal of some kind. It was a large one, wearing some kind of ceremonial dress of carven bone, and in its hands was a length of gnarled wood, a silver crystal tied to its head with twine.

It raised the weapon when it saw them, and a bolt of lightning arced from its end. It slammed into the chestplate of his raiment, the shock of the impact knocking him to the ground. The back of his head slammed into the floor and he saw bright spots flash and spin across the ceiling above him.

He was unaware of Salyan diverting another blast of electricity with a counterspell of her own, the bard stepping forwards and over him to shield him while he was on the ground. The shaman raised its free hand and sent a wall of fire towards her, but plucked strings and a sung chord threw up a blast of force that dispersed it into a harmless cloud of hot air.

The bard drew upon arcane energies, plucking more strings and humming a note. Impelled by magical power, the discordant un-noise sliced forwards through the air and hit the shaman. It shrieked in fury as the next spell it tried to cast fizzled and died on its finger tips, and raised the staff. It managed to gather enough energy together to glow, but nothing else.

Salyan grinned. She stopped grinning as the burly creature raised the staff like a club and charged her.

She dodged out of the way as it swiped her, scrambling back. She managed to pluck a sonic blast towards it, but her aim and the magic's focus were poor and she did little more than stagger it. In the moment's respite she had, she kicked Carnius from where he was on the floor.

"Get up, you useless fetcher!" she managed, before she had step back from a swipe the shaman sent at her.

The shaman's staff began to glimmer again as Salyan's silence spell wore off, and it levelled towards her. She plucked a string and sang a note, an angled wall of arcane energy intercepting the bolt and deflecting it away to smash against the stone wall. It barrelled towards her, hurling a bolt of fire as she backed away, the impact scorching the leather of her pauldron as its glanced off it.

It stepped forwards over Carnius, readying the weapon for another blast. Salyan saw movement behind it and grinned, firing off another silence spell. The Grummite's response was to shriek in rage and ready the stave as a club once more.

Carnius' gauntlet slammed into the back of its skull with a wet crunch, and it toppled to the ground.

"I could've used you doing that a good a good few minutes ago," Salyan said, poking the Grummite with her boot to make sure it was dead. The crushed bone and pulverised brain matter that was visible rendered the action somewhat obsolete.

"I was indisposed," Carnius said. He looked over at the pedestal, one cut from the same crystal as the stone on the end of the shaman's staff. "You don't know any destruction spells?"

"I've not really needed them before," Salyan explained. "I didn't know I was going to start making a habit of exploring Grummite-infested ruins."

"Fair enough," Carnius said, picking up the staff. He unknotted the twine that held it in place and put the crystal in the slot at the top of the pedestal. For a moment, nothing happened, before a delicate blue light began to glow around its base. The crystal rose upwards a few inches, suspended atop a gossamer web of azure magical energy, spinning in a gentle, sedate circle.

"I think that means it's working," Salyan said. "So, let's go get the other two."

The next few hours were the same, the two of them fighting through the Grummites that infested Xedilian and being forced to deal with their more powerful shamans. By the end of it, the two of them were exhausted, their bodies and equipment battered by the surging tides of combat. Finally, however, the crystals were returned to their proper place, the amphibious beings were cleared and Xedilian was ready for operation.

"And here we go," Salyan said as Carnius raised the Resonator to use it. He tapped the massive crystal three times, the noise ringing out across the large chamber.

The next moment, it turned dark and the horror began.


	18. Trap

Chapter 18-Trap

An old, cold heart shuddered into its first beat in an age. Blood that had dried into dust crept into a liquid and began to pump along veins. Musty lungs were purged of their dust and cobwebs by a hacking cough. Colour began to return to pallid grey-blue skin. Arthritic fingers curled into life with a groaning creak. Eyelids opened over dry cataracts that faded with every passing moment.

Kiliban Nyrandil, the keeper of Xedilian, woke once more from his centuries-long sleep.

There was darkness all around. A thick, coiling, oily blackness, snaring and dragging at his eyes, slipping over his skin. He took a step forward, straining against the thick air, trying to look around, to see if he could find anything.

"Salyan?" he called. "Salyan, are you there?"

The darkness absorbed his words and spat them back at him with as a hissing echo. He took another step forwards, fighting the dark around him, and stopped as a curving line of white appeared before him. It widened into a crescent, a mouth.

"Alone," it said, fangs flashing into view as its invisible lips parted in speech. "You are all alone now, forever."

"What in the name of the gods are you talking about?" Carnius asked.

"Trapped. Caught in a trap. A morsel to be eaten!"

It opened wide, growing larger than Carnius, expanding and growing until they were as huge as existence itself, a maw of hungry night that swept over him. The ground swelled up under his feet, sending him tumbling down the slick sides of an invisible gullet and he was falling, down through the darkness.

He landed on his back on an anvil. The scarred visage of Cutter looked down at him, huge and imposing as she snarled.

"What the-" Carnius managed, before the immense smith said; "You broke our deal."

"What are you talking about? What in the name of the gods is going on?"

"Our contract is broken," Cutter replied. She had a knife in one massive hand, and two fingers pinned him to the iron. "I'm taking my forfeit."

Carnius screamed as the knife sliced through his armour, a deft movement opening his ribcage like a flower. Pain roared through his body as he thrashed against the iron grip of Cutter's fingers, and a pair of tweezers descended. With a ripping squelch, his heart was torn free. He was too blinded by pain to see the smith swallow it.

And then the anvil was gone, his chest was whole. Carnius stared at it for a moment, running a baffled experimental hand over it. It ached but that was the extent of the damage.

He looked up, glancing around at the room he was now in. He frowned as he recognised the cellar for what it was; the Bloodworks of the Arena. How in the name of the Nine was he here?

"Murderer," a voice croaked.

"Who's there?" Carnius asked, raising his fists.

"Murderer," that same voice croaked again, this time from behind him.

From behind a pillar, a figure stepped out. It was clad in a rusted, pitted breastplate and a kilt of hardened leather, the grey-green skin was peeling away in patches, revealing bone underneath. An eye was gone, the other one brown with rot, but Carnius recognised the figure despite the decay.

"Agronak?" he asked, stepping back. "What's going on?"

"Murderer," the half-rotten thing repeated once more. "You killed me."

"Agronak, what are you talking about?" Carnius protested. "We agreed that that was how the match would go; you didn't want to win."

"Justice," it managed. "Now, I will have justice."

"No!" Carnius protested. "Agronak! Please, what are you doing?"

The thing's sword hissed from its sheath. He tried to raise his hands, tried to block, but his arms were locked at his sides as the blade was raised from his hands.

"Justice," it said once more. "Now, justice. Murderer."

The blade hacked down, a burning wedge of agony and Carnius screamed as an arm fell away, then the second. His vision turned black once more.

When his eyes opened, he was face down on a cold stone floor, this one free of bloodstains. He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, casting around the room he was in.

It was nothing more than a box of ten feet in diameter, lit by a few candles on a desk that was ornamented only by a quill and a parchment. Behind that, there was another occupant; a man dressed all in grey, his skin the same shade, eyes glowing bright white. There was a look of shock on his face, and Carnius stepped back, raising his fists.

"You keep back," he warned.

"You?" the man asked. "What are…what are you doing here?"

He glanced around at the walls and turned back to Carnius.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I did," the man in grey said. "Please, I really am. Just let me out of here."

"What are you talking about?" Carnius asked.

"There's scratching," the man in grey replied, only have hearing it. "Don't you realise? Something is coming through the walls. Can't you hear it? It's going to come through the walls and kill me. Please, I swear, I'm sorry. Just I need to get out, though, before it breaks through the walls!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Carnius said.

"What?" the man in grey protested. "But…but you..."

The ground opened beneath Carnius in a maw of broken stone. For a few brief moments he looked up as the man in grey tried to scrabble after him pleading with him to wait, stopped from following by some invisible barrier.

He landed on his back on a bed.

He blinked, realising he was now naked, and raised himself up on his elbows. He recognised the room as Her Ladyship's personal chambers and frowned.

"What are you doing?" a familiar voice asked from next to him.

Carnius saw Her Ladyship rise from where she had been lying next to him, as naked as he was. He scrambled away, but the sheets snapped in place around his wrists, and Her Ladyship's face twisted into a overly smile with fangs.

"This isn't real," Carnius managed, more to himself than anything else. "This is just Xedilian doing something to my head. This isn't real."

"Quiet," Her Ladyship ordered. She leant in close to him, still smiling, before she said; "You thought you might be one of us, didn't you?"

"Get away," Carnius managed.

"You thought you might better yourself?" she asked, ignoring his protest. "That you might somehow rise above your station?"

She jabbed a few fingers into his stomach and Carnius gasped in pain as the muscle and skin parted before her nails, blood dribbling down his midriff.

"No," she hissed, hand sliding into his gut with a wet squelch as Carnius screamed in pain. "You stay right where you came from. Grubbing in the dirt where you belong. Don't you _dare_ think to rise up above your station."

Carnius managed to squeeze his eyes shut at that point. Just because he could not see it, however, did not mean it was less painful.

When it subsided, he dared to open them. He was in a cave, lit by the light of guttering braziers of beaten iron. A serpent, a huge, immense snake with a girth like the trunk of a tree, was coiled on a stone platform that Carnius stood before, and a lazy amber eye slid open as it saw him.

"Usurper's pawn," it hissed. "Why do you disturb my rest?"

Carnius frowned, stepping away from the immense serpent.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Akel," it said. "The hunger, the first madness. True holder of the Madgod's title, and yet my mantle has been taken by your master."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Carnius said.

"No, of course you do not," Akel said. "You scrabble in the dark like so many of your kind. Even now, in this place, you keep to shadow, ignorant and forever in denial about the nature of this cycle. Soon I shall be forced to feast once more."

"I've no idea what you're saying," Carnius said. "But I know that this just an illusion made by this place. A lie."

"Indeed it is, and yet it is not," Akel said. "Xedilian's visions are not illusions. They are insights. To find madness, all you must do is look deep enough into sanity, and I am there. Lurking. Hungry, always hungry."

It uncoiled, rising over Carnius, fanged jaws opening wide as the gladiator backed away and braced himself.

"Time to wake up," it said.

It struck down, and fuelled by desperation and terror more than anything else, Carnius struck back.

The next moment, he was standing, pinning a dunmer to the stone wall of Xedilian. The mer had a look of shock in his red eyes as he kicked and struggled.

"Who are you?" Carnius demanded. All he got was a choked gargling, and he loosened his grip slightly.

"Kiliban!" the dark elf managed. "Kiliban Nyrandil, the…the keeper of this place. Please…please put me down."

Carnius lowered the man to the ground, glancing around at his surroundings. The shadows were free of any mocking, illusory spectres and he looked back at the coughing dunmer; he was fairly sure he was real, but he didn't want to take any chances just yet. He was only at the bottom of the Resonator's pedestal; throughout that entire experience, had barely moved a few feet.

"I'm really very sorry about that," Kiliban said, as Carnius continued to scan the room. "The facility is designed to attack anybody who enters without permission, and because you activated it without the proper identification charm it thought you were one of its targets. An oversight on the behalf of whoever sent you, really."

"Where's Salyan?" Carnius asked him, not caring for the man's explanation.

"Who?"

"Salyan, the young woman I came in with."

"I don't know, I only just woke up," Kiliban said. "You've been the only person I've found here so far."

"Gods above," Carnius murmured, shaking his head. He picked one of the corridors at random and jogged through it, calling out; "Salyan! Salyan, can you hear me?! It's me, Carnius! Salyan!"

He found her after a few minutes of searching, Kiliban in his wake. The bard was curled up in a ball, shaking like a leaf and quietly sobbing.

"Salyan?" Carnius asked, keeping his tone gentle as he knelt down next to her.

"Go away," she choked, squeezing up tighter.

"Salyan, it's me," Carnius said.

"I said go away!" Salyan protested, not looking up. "I'm not a freak, just leave me alone."

"Listen, I'm not one of the illusions this place has been throwing at you," Carnius replied. "I'm real."

She glanced up with bloodshot, distrusting eyes as he held out a hand.

"You're not a trick, are you?" she asked after a moment. Carnius shook his head, and helped her to her feet. She grabbed him in an embrace. They were quiet for a few moments, before she said; "Can we please leave?"

"Let's," Carnius nodded.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay a while?" Kiliban asked. "It must have been quite a journey to get here; you must be tired, surely. And I appreciate some help clearing out all the Grummites' things."

"We're fine," Salyan said, picking up her lyre from where it lay discarded a few away. "You can tidy this place up by yourself."

"But can't you-"

"We're going," Carnius interrupted. There was a growl in his voice.

They left Xedilian in subdued silence. Outside, the drizzle had subsided, but the ground was damp the flora around them were glistening and slick with damp, the mushroom trees twisting over the road like disembowelled guts turned brown with rot. There was little conversation as they walked, Salyan remaining uncharacteristically silent and subdued. Carnius felt badly shaken and not in the mood for talking in any case, and he decided the best thing he could do right now was give her some space; she reminded him of a fresh-faced pit dog who had just lost their first good friend in an Arena match. It was in the evening, when they were taking shelter in the lee of a large mushroom tree, having finished a dinner of some of their travelling rations, that he decided that it might be a good time to breach a question that had been pestering him during the walk.

"Salyan," he said. "What did you mean when you were said to me that you weren't a freak?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Salyan said. "It was an old memory. A personal one. Too personal for the minute. Maybe another time."

Carnius nodded, before he said; "Listen, you get some rest. I'll take first watch."

"Alright," Salyan said. "Thanks."

She unfurled her bedroll, taking off the jerkin and cloak she wore for travelling and climbed into it, leaving Carnius alone with the disturbing memories of Sheogorath's trap.


	19. Feaster

Chapter 19-Feaster

A night's sleep had done them both some good. Salyan was more talkative on the road, and now that he had slept on it, the worst of the shock had worn off on Carnius. The path they were taking was leading them through dense thickets of mushroom forest, trunks snaking over the road and plunging it into shadow, thick funguses and stunted plants fighting for light in the undergrowth.

"Salyan," he said at one point, running a hand over the top of his head, grimacing as he felt the fine fuzz of hair that was creeping up from his scalp. "Is there anywhere in New Sheoth that I can get my hair cut?"

"Well, there's Ghan Shi, in Bliss," Salyan said, ducking her head to avoid a slick vine that was hanging over the road. "He's a good barber."

"Good," Carnius said. "This stuff's annoying me and I forgot to pack a razor." He glanced over at Salyan, whose own hair was somehow clean and well kept despite the absence of bathhouses that was prevalent on their journey to Xedilian. "How come you've managed to keep yourself looking alright?"

"It's a spell I know," she said. "Just one for hygiene and so forth, that's all."

"Handy for you," Carnius said. "Makes me wish I was good at magic."

"Some have the talent, some don't," Salyan said. "To be fair, you're much better at hitting things instead."

That got a quiet chuckle from Carnius.

"I suppose it balances out in the end, in that case," he said, smiling.

"And that's why we work so well together as a team," Salyan said, before her brow furrowed. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"There's somebody shouting something," Salyan said, hurrying forwards. "Just ahead."

Carnius followed, the sound beginning to come through to him as the pair made their way along the road that wound through the dense mushroom tree forest. The sight they came to was enough to give them pause for a few moments.

The forest cleared to a bleak, flat moor. To one side of the, a crystal twice the height of a man jutted from the ground, a jagged silvery monolith, and surrounding that a small group of men armoured in plate cut from the same material. They had company; one of them a figure in dark blue robes and a helmet of that same crystal and the other, a woman wearing mail and light plating, was trying to kill every one of them.

"The Madgod watches over me, abominations!" she cried as she smashed the pommel of the two-handed sword she carried into the visor of one of the armoured warriors, knocking it back. In a movement too swift to follow, the blade whirled around and sliced down onto the top of its helm, cutting it in half from head to groin. It dissolved in a shower of silver powder, and as a heavy silver object thudded down on the ground, the woman turned on the spot with impossible swiftness to block a strike from another foe. "The primal hunger will see you consumed!"

She stepped out of the way of a stab from one trying flank her, jabbing the tip of her blade through its neck. Like its fellow, that one dissolved into a pile of dust, and as the other one hacked its blade towards her she managed to bring her own weapon around in a parry.

"She needs our help!" Salyan exclaimed.

"Really?" Carnius asked as he watched her fight. "She seems to be doing fine."

That earned him a glower from the bard, and he shook his head.

"I'm not serious," he said. "Let's go."

Salyan nodded as Carnius began his charge.

The first enemy he hit barely saw him before his gauntlet slammed into the side of its helm. It stumbled back, the crystal cracking under the impact, and in the corner of his vision Carnius saw the figure in the blue robes point the crystal-topped staff it carried towards him. Salyan's silence spell killed the light glimmering within the stone a moment later, but the automaton had managed to recover. It stabbed at him with the blade, Carnius catching its tip with his left vambrace, a rolling motion deflecting it away and stumbling it. He grabbed its arm with his right hand, stamping down on the side of its knee, reversing his hold and smashing his knuckles into the side of its helmet once more. It dissolved into dust and he turned towards the enemy with the staff. He was backing away, the magical weapon raised to defend himself, and Carnius charged. The man turned to flee, but the point of a blade erupted from his midriff, the gore-slick tip lifting him into the air and letting him slide down it. The woman lowered the weapon after a moment, kicking the body off, and a moment later the tip of the blade, somehow now clean of blood, was resting against Carnius' throat.

"Who are you?" she challenged.

"A friend," Carnius said, taking in her appearance for the first time. Caramel skin, slight points to her ears, dark hair pulled back in a topknot. She was shaking with adrenaline, and Carnius saw that the pupils of her eyes were so huge that her amber irises were nothing more than a faint ring of colour around them. The tip of the blade pressed slightly harder against his throat, before she drew it back.

"No, Madsen, I believe him," she said, seemingly to nobody. "Almeria Dranedil, Missionary of the Feasters. Who are you? Be quick, we haven't much time."

"Carnius Hackelt," Carnius said.

"Salyan Irrenius," Salyan added.

Almeria nodded as the crystal began to glimmer with light.

"There are more of them coming," she said. "I don't know how to shut this thing down but I won't allow these creatures to roam this area unchecked. Help me fight them, I beg of you."

Carnius and Salyan nodded, glancing round as the crystal began to hum with power. Blue energy arced from its core, striking the body of the man in robes, lifting him into the air and healing shut the wound in his midriff. White mist seeped from it, beginning to solidify and take form as more of those beings with blades of crystal in their hands.

Almeria pulled a flask filled with a glowing green liquid from her belt, unstopped it and emptied it of its contents in a single swig. She convulsed in a single violent movement, taking a deep and ragged breath, and righted herself.

"Sing praise to Sheogorath, and consume the flesh of his enemies!" she cried, before throwing herself towards the enemy. The robed figure was her target, and he didn't have time to block before her greatsword descended and sliced across his body, a streaming sheet of delicate crimson trailing the blade like a banner as the man's guts spilled on the ground.

As two more of the crystalline figures took form, Salyan sent a frenzy spell slicing towards one of them. As they began to fight, Carnius turned his attention to another one of the armoured beings that had just appeared. He stepped into its reach as it drew its blade, knocking the weapon aside before hammering a series of punches into it, the Daedric ebony on his knuckles cracking the crystal the protected it. It dissolved into dust and he parried a slash from another of the creatures.

"**Kneel**!" it screamed at him in a voice like the pealing of shattered bells. "**Kneel!**"

It withdrew and slashed at him again, and Carnius reeled back as a burning furrow of pain cut across his face. He cursed and stumbled back, hot blood beginning to seep from it, and barely managed to parry the next strike that slashed towards him.

He managed to push the next stab aside and open up its guard, and it screamed at him once more.

"**Kneel!**"

"Bugger off!" Carnius replied as he slammed his fist into its faceplate. It dissolved into silver powder, a heavy round crystal thudding to the ground from where its chest once was, and his next survey of the scene was enough to three of the things descending on Almeria. Her own blade was a blurred whirlwind of steel as she parried their strikes, turning and spinning on the spot, her movements those of a dancer as much as a swordswoman's. She stabbed out once, ripping through the throat of one and leaving it to crumble to nothing, before she turned the weapon the spot and blocked a slash from another of those crystalline creatures. Both blades sang as they ran along each other, Almeria ducking under its blade arm and behind its reach in a movement so swift Carnius would have thought it impossible. Her greatsword swept around and parted its head from its shoulders and she barrelled through the dissolving body to feint at the remaining one and then bring the blade under its guard and stab into its armpit.

"Feast on the flesh of the unrighteous!" she cried in triumph.

More of the things were beginning pull through from the pulsing crystal, and the eviscerated figure in the robes was beginning to rise from the ground once again, his wounds healed.

"Sheogorath and the Isles are one and the same!" Almeria announced as she launched herself into combat. "His divinity permeates the land!"

She blocked a strike and the return stab killed her enemy in a moment. Salyan's shockwave spell knocked a few of the foe away, and Carnius used the opportunity of them being stumbled to launch himself into their midst while they were stumbled.

"All living things grow from the Isles!" Almeria yelled as she bisected another foe. "All living things are of Sheogorath!"

She blocked a swing from another of the shining crystalline beings as she stepped to its side, swung her claymore under its guard and sliced into its armpit and out past its neck, head and arm sliding away from the rest of it body before it crumbled.

"To partake in that which lives is to partake in the Madgod!" Almeria cried. "To consume his living creatures is to consume Sheogorath himself!"

Carnius blocked a sideways slash from one of the creatures, pushing its arm away and stumbling it. He stepped after it into its reach, slamming both his fists into its midriff with a grunt of effort. It doubled over and he smashed both fists down on the back of its helm, sending it crumbling to dust.

"To consume the divine is to become divine!" Almeria called as she sliced down on another crystal soldier, hacking deep into its chest and turning it to powder. "Every living thing we eat makes us akin to Sheogorath!"

Salyan sent another Silence spell at the robed figure with the staff, and that was enough to put his staff and any spells he had out of action before the tip of Almeria's weapon tore up under his jaw. He hung from its point like a grisly pennant before a flick from the blade sent the top of his skull sailing away from the rest of his body.

"Let nothing remain unconsumed!" she cried. "Feed the primal hunger! We are the Feasters! We shall be of the Madgod!"

Carnius blocked a blow that one of the crystalline creatures sent at him and managed to step out of the way of a second's swing. A third appeared on the edge of his vision, and he barely succeeded in avoiding the stab it sent spearing towards him. One of them exploded into dust as the point of Almeria's blade tore from its chest, and she took advantage of its comrade's confusion to stab the weapon through its midriff. Carnius grabbed the wrist of the remaining one's sword arm and swung his free hand upwards, smashing it into the thing's elbow. The crystal around it cracked and peeled away, revealing a core of white light as the thing screamed, and Carnius slammed his hand forwards again into its chest. The stone splintered, and a second blow smashed it into nothing.

"There is but one thing the true Feaster can do!" Almeria cried. "Sing praise to Sheogorath, and consume the flesh of his enemies!"

The fight went on, relentless waves of the crystalline beings forming from the monolith that created them, their commander rising once more whenever he was killed. Carnius was beginning to flag, his reserve of stamina potions running dry and Salyan's magicka replenishment elixirs having been long since exhausted. If it had not been for the unstoppable whirlwind of pure violence that was Almeria, they would have died long ago, but even she was beginning to show signs of exhaustion.

They needed help, and they needed it soon.

Kiskella Tulfis stopped her rayet with a gentle tug of the reins, halting the rest of the patrol as she heard the noise coming up from head. From between the mushroom trees, the sound of steel clashing against steel, yells of something that she couldn't quite make out. A fight.

"Weapons ready, sisters," she said, drawing the long, curved cavalry sabre that she carried at her waist. "Trouble ahead."

The Dark Seducers under her command complied without a word, drawing their own blades and taking up the shields they had stowed, Kelrin and Loria drawing and stringing their bows. A squeeze of her knees set Tulfis' rayet into a trot, and as she continued down the path, the Kiskella ready for trouble as the other seven Mazken that made up the patrol followed. She cursed when she saw the sight before her; Order Knights surrounding one of their characteristics obelisks of silver crystal. It was a sight she knew all too well from the battles she had fought during the previous Greymarches.

"Kelrin, Loria," she said. "Flank around the enemy and provide archer support; stay swift and aim true. The rest of you, with me! For the Isles! Charge!"

She kicked her heels into the sides of her rayet and with a hoot it surged forwards with the rest of the patrol. The six mounted troops hit the side of the Order Knight's flank in a wedge, momentum and mass bowling the enemy over as they charged. Tulfis hacked down on the helm of one of the Order Knights as she passed it, speed and the force behind the blow crumbling it to nothing, and the backswing knocked away another one of them before an arrow from either Kelrin or Loria speared into its arm. The next moment, an Imperial stepped from the melee and smashed a heavy gauntlet into its helm; before she could speak to him, her rayet reared up and kicked out with her powerful hind legs at an Order Knight that had been charging her. The crystal Daedra was knocked to the ground and as she had been trained, her mount stabbed down with the heavy steel spike that had been attached to the end of her beak, ending its life.

"Imperial!" she called out over the noise of the fight. Her words were cut short as another Order Knight charged her side, stabbing towards her; she caught the blow with her shield and stabbed down its neck and into its chest. "Imperial!"

"What?" the man replied, glancing over from where he had pummelled another Order Knight to dust with the heavy gauntlets he was wearing.

"The crystals they drop, get them to the monolith!" Tulfis said, knowing there was no time for formalities. "Push them into it; it's the only way to shut it down!"

The Imperial nodded, grabbed the round crystal that had fallen on the ground, and made for the monolith, calling out; "Salyan, give me a hand!"

As she hacked down at another Order Knight, she saw in the corner of her eye another mortal plucking the strings of a lyre she was holding and sending some kind of spell at a pair of Order Knights trying to block the Imperial man's way. As they began to fight one another, he barrelled past, grabbing another one of the crystals from where it lay on the ground and reaching the monolith itself. He pushed the two stones into its side, both of them sliding into the seemingly solid material without effort, and he turned back, casting around for another crystal. Tulfis silently wished him luck as she turned her attentions on another foe, a stab forcing it back and into the reach of her rayet. As the Mazken's mount had been trained to do, it stabbed its metal-sheathed beak into the Order Knight's vulnerable side, spearing it and sending it dissolving away.

A deep, groaning crack split the air, and for a moment the combat halted as all eyes fell upon the monolith. The light within it died, and lightning-bolt fractures began to spread across its side. With the sound of shattering glass, it came apart, great chunks of it tumbling down to the ground.

The combat that remained was brief, the remaining Order Knights and their leader pressing back on their enemies in one last bid for vengeance. The Order Priest that lead them was wounded by an arrow and a young woman with tan skin and black hair finished him with several vicious strikes from the greatsword she carried. She turned on an Order Knight nearby and finished it in a brief and furious flurry of blows.

After that, silence fell on the battlefield.


	20. Untitled

Chapter 20-I can't think of a bloody title!

"So what exactly were those things?" Carnius asked the Dark Seducer that had come to their rescue, picking up a crystal that one of the beings they had fought had dropped.

"They go by the name of Order Knights," the Daedra, one that went by the name of Tulfis, replied. She had introduced herself as the patrol's Kiskella, a leader of some kind. "They're the footsoldiers of the Greymarch, the backbone of Jygallag's army. The man with them was an Order Priest, something like a junior officer; they summon the obelisks which call Order knights and other forces of the Greymarch through, and command them in battle."

"So that obelisk was what was keeping him alive, then," Carnius said, glancing at the body. Almeria was crouched over it, having removed his helm and the clothing on his upper body for some purpose. There had been a greyish tint to his skin, and his eyes were milky white "We must have killed him a dozen times over and he kept getting back up."

"Indeed," Tulfis said. "You were lucky to have stumbled upon it when it had only just been called into being; Order Knights are bad enough when there are a lot of them, but if any Coensors or Dominions had managed to break through then things would have been much more difficult."

Carnius nodded, gingerly feeling the blood-caked scar that had been sliced across his face by one of the things.

"And if one of those Arbitrators had arrived then things would have gone badly," he remarked.

"I doubt that one of them could summon together the energy to appear this early in the Greymarch," Tulfis replied. "And they'd only appear somewhere important, if my experience with other ones is anything to go by."

"You've been in other Greymarches?" Carnius asked.

"Of course I have," Tulfis said, giving Carniu a look that suggested that the question he had asked was incredibly simple. "I'm a Daedra after all; we can't die. I've fought in every single one of them, ever since the creation of the Isles."

She whistled, and her Rayet wandered over to her, a curious hoot sounding from its beak.

"I'll need to report this to Sheogorath at once, if Sentinel hasn't already," she said. "You'll be alright making your way to wherever you're going on foot, I hope; judging by the way you three handled yourselves in that fight you won't be needing an escort."

"We'll manage," Carnius said.

"Glad to hear," Tulfis said, taking her mount by its bridle. She inclined her head to Carnius. "May the Madgod watch over you until we meet once more, mortal."

"May he watch over you too," Carnius said, deciding that it was the polite thing to say.

"We make for New Sheoth, sisters," Tulfis called to the rest of her patrol. The other Dark Seducers nodded and began to mount up; with a final farewell, they started down the road in a swift trot.

Carnius glanced over to Salyan where she was sat on a rock, looking at the scene of the fight. The ground was churned up and there were still crystals scattered about from the enemy dead, but it didn't particularly look like a battle has taken place there a few minutes ago.

"You alright?" he asked as he approached.

"I'm fine, yes," she said. She looked tired but pleased, her hair matted and grimy and her brow still damp with exertion. "The adrenaline's just wearing off, that's all. Didn't realise how tired I was."

"You never do until it's over," Carnius said. "Not unless you're fighting for a long time. You did well, by the way; was that the first big fight you've been in?"

"I've been in the occasional tangle with zealots or heretics or wildlife before, but nothing on that scale, no," she replied. "If I'm honest, all I really did was stay on the sidelines and loose off spells while you and Almeria got stuck in."

"That was the sort of thing we needed, really," Carnius replied. "Besides, it's what you do best."

"We were lucky Almeria was there, though," Salyan said, nodding towards the woman. She was still crouch next to the corpse of the Order Priest, though her body obscured what she was doing. "I wouldn't have fancied our odds if she hadn't been helping us."

"I won't argue with that," Carnius said. "Gods, if she'd been in the Arena she'd have been Grand Champion within a week."

"Do you think we should ask her to help us?" Salyan asked. "I mean, she's a Feaster, so she wouldn't need much persuasion."

"I could certainly see her coming in useful if we get into another fight like that," Carnius said, standing up. Salyan followed suit. "Let's ask."

They approached, and Carnius stopped as she saw what Almeria had done to the Order Priest's body; both of his arms had been stripped of skin, and she was carving a cut of muscle from them with a long, sharp dagger.

"Almeria," Salyan said. "We wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?" the Feaster asked, glancing up from her grisly work.

"We were hoping you might be willing to travel with us," Salyan said. "We're trying to stop these creatures from attacking the Isles and we need all the help we can get."

"You're working against the Final Starvation?" Almeria asked. "In that case, yes, I will gladly assist both of you; my duties as a Feaster ask no less of me."

"You will? Great," Salyan said. Almeria nodded.

"I'll need to report this to the Temple of the Feast first, of course, and get permission from Feast Lord Dranden to do that instead of my usual duties as a missionary, but it shouldn't be a problem," she said.

"We're going to New Sheoth anyway," Salyan said. "You hear that, Carnius?"

There was no reply, and she glanced around. The gladiator was staring at the half-butchered corpse. "Carnius?"

"What are you doing to that man?" he asked.

"Preparing his flesh for consumption, so he may given to the Madgod as part of the Feast," Almeria replied. "After all, is it not written in the Book of the Feast 'Sing praise to Sheogorath and consume the flesh of his enemies?'"

"I have no idea," Carnius said. That got him a frown.

"How can you not know of the Feasters?" Almeria asked. "I appreciate that there are many people who aren't of my faith, but nonetheless you must have at least heard of us."

"He's from Nirn," Salyan said. "I don't think they approve of eating people over there. I don't think they approve of many things, really."

"That's interesting," Almeria remarked. "I don't think I've ever met somebody from there before. Is it true that you people worship the Aedra?"

"You mean the Nine Divines?" Carnius asked. "Yes, we do. I was never devout a worshipper, I'll be honest, but we do, by and large."

"How strange," the Feaster said, before she shrugged. "But no matter. Give me a few minutes to finish off here and we can go."

Salyan nodded, and she and Carnius stepped away as Almeria got back to work, muttering a prayer as she did so.

"I can't help but feel slightly worried by the fact that I don't feel as appalled as I think I should be," Carnius said. "I think this place is beginning to get to me."

"Maybe," Salyan simply said.

The gladiator shrugged, before he glanced over to Almeria and called; "Are you nearly finished?"

"Almost," she replied, where she was stowing the cuts away in her pack. Once she was done, she slung it on her back, and the trio set out.

They reached New Sheoth in the middle of the day after that one, but it was already dark. For the entire morning, an impenetrable phalanx of black clouds had been marshalling like the forming of a mob, and by the time they found their way to the basalt gates that lead into Crucible, it had turned into a storm. It was not an angry storm, the wind more biting than it was violent, the rain damp and heavy and yet not striking, and the thunder and lightning were desultory efforts from the clouds rather than any wrathful blows hurled at the ground by the sky.

The main square that greeted Crucible's visitors was quiet, rain dripping from the statue of Sheogorath that occupied its centre. A figure in a cloak hurried past them, hunched against the weather, while a pair of Dark Seducers patrolled nearby, carrying guttering torches to combat the early darkness; they gave no sign as to whether the weather caused them any measure of discomfort.

"So what first?" Salyan asked. "Are we going to the palace?"

"It would be a good place to start," Carnius said. "I'll need to see Cutter about my gauntlets too, and see about that haircut."

"Great," Salyan said. "So are going to head through Bliss then, or-"

"Why would we go through Bliss?" Carnius interrupted.

"Because it's nicer than Crucible," Salyan said. "And Almeria needs to stop off at the Temple of the Feast too."

"Almeria going there wasn't why you said that, though, was it?" Carnius challenged. "What's your problem with this place, Salyan?"

"I don't have a problem with Crucible," Salyan said.

"Then why do you never want to stay here?" Carnius asked. "Why do you complain about being here? Why is everything much better over in Mania than Dementia, then?"

"Well it…it just is," Salyan said. "Everything here is old and grimy and poor and I don't see why we need to have anything to do with it."

"You know who you sound like?" Carnius said. "Some stuck up noble's brat, that's what."

"A noble's brat?" Salyan said. "Don't you dare call me a brat! Don't you dare, do you hear me?"

"Well then why do you sulk like one whenever we come here?" Carnius asked.

"I do not…you know what?" Salyan said. "Fine. Say I'm sulking, if you want. I don't care; I don't even know why I even need to bother staying with somebody who clearly liks to spend his time wallowing in filth."

Before Carnius could stop her, she stormed away towards Bliss. Carnius blinked in surprise at that development, at how sudden the flaring of tempers had been, and Salyan had already disappeared from the square. Almeria was quiet for a moment, hovering.

"I should probably go and report to Feast Lord Dranden," she said. "I'll try and find you later."

She left, leaving Carnius standing alone in the rain. He sighed, shaking his head, and set out for the palace.

Either the Dark Seducers at the Crucible gate had been informed of his arrival or recognised him from somewhere, as they opened it for him without question. He made his way across the palace's courtyard, avoiding puddles that had formed in the path, and a glance up at the sky on the Mania side showed that, even though there was no storm, it was still overcast and drizzling.

He pushed the door to the palace open, and stepped through. There was a servant waiting to receive guests inside, and Carnius thanked the man as he handed him his cloak. Carnius pushed the door to the throne room, and frowned when it refused to budge. He knocked, and a few moments later, Haskill pulled it open.

"Lord Sheogorath will not be receiving any dignitaries, guests or petitioners today," he said, before he saw who had knocked. "Though perhaps he will want to speak to you."

He pulled open the door, and Carnius stepped through. Sheogorath was on his throne at the far end of the room, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and a scowl on his face.

"Order Knights," he said as Carnius entered. "Jyggalag's damn Order Knights are already tramping about my realm. I am not happy, Carnius, not at all."

"I'm sure," Carnius said. "Do you mind coming down here if you want to talk? I'd rather not crane my neck."

The snake that was curled around the throne began to lower Sheogorath to the floor.

"It's quite refreshing to speak to someone who hasn't the faintest idea of how you should address nobility, you know," Sheogorath said. He gestured around the throneroom, as if indicating an invisible court thronging the room. "I can be surrounded by lackeys and lickspittles and lollygaggers at times. Is lollygaggers the right sort of word to use, Haskill?"

"I'm afraid that I don't believe it is," Haskill replied.

"Pah," Sheogorath spat. "What does it matter? I've got Order Knights being called and the Greymarch's monoliths popping up out of the ground. Who cares about a word when all that is happening?"

He stopped by Carnius, and he said; "Well, have you got any good news for me, at least? Is Xedilian working again?"

"Yes, it is," Carnius said. "And speaking of which…"

His fist slammed into Sheogorath's jaw. Even though Carnius' knuckles were not encased in their gauntlets, the Daedra reeled back with a cry of shock, clutching where Carnius had struck.

"Tell us when you're going to go risking our sanity like that!" Carnius snapped at him.

The next thing he knew, he was pinned to the ceiling of the throne room, with Sheogorath looking up at him.

"Now," the Daedra said. "You get a free pass on that because you're clearly upset about what happened in Xedilian and that action was a spur of the moment one, and goodness only knows that I'm spur of the moment made form. But if you strike me again, Carnius Hackelt, the things that I'll do to you will make Xedilian seem like a picnic. Do you understand?"

Against the invisible force that was pinning him against the ceiling, Carnius managed to nod. He was lowered to the floor with a gesture from Sheogorath.

"I won't on one condition," Carnius said. "Don't hold back information like that again. If you do, I'm leaving and you can find somebody else to help you."

Sheogorath was silent for a moment, before he said; "You know, I think you're probably one of the few mortals I've ever heard of who has the spine to say such a thing to a Daedric Prince while they're standing in their realm. I mean, right now, I could do anything I wanted to you; I could turn you into a flammable gas and burn you, or click my fingers and rip your skin off, or transform you into a sweetroll, but you still stand up to me. I may have to take that backbone of yours and mount it on my wall when this is all over."

"Does that mean we have a deal?" Carnius asked.

Sheogorath rubbed his hands together, taking a few contemplative steps away from Carnius.

"Tricky, tricky, tricky," he said. "After all, right now what I would like is for somebody with a good head on their shoulders, and what I need is a sane man, but I wouldn't want you to keep your head just because I made things easy for you. That wouldn't do at all; would scupper them at the last moment quite magnificently."

He spun on the spot to face the gladiator once more.

"You know, a good number of all the churches in the Isles believe that I send my people hardships and misfortune in order to test their faith and let them prove themselves worthy," he said. "It's a dreadfully silly thing to think, really, and most of the time I send bad things their way because it just makes me laugh to see everything fall apart around them, but I always find it very uplifting to see them rise above their troubles on the rare occasion that they do; it brightens my day up no end. But in your case, Carnius, I'm going to send bad things your way because it will be a test, because I need you to prove yourself worthy; I can't have a weakling as my champion, and I need somebody who's strong in the mind and well as the body to be that person. Do you understand?"

"I think so," Carnius said. "But if you're going to test somebody, test me; my friends don't need to be tormented by you."

Sheogorath was quiet for a few moments.

"That's a reasonable compromise, I suppose," he said. "Goes against my grain somewhat, but if that means you're happy then I'd guess that it's for the best. Speaking of friends, what happened to Salyan Irrenius My Lord?"

"We…we had a disagreement," Carnius said.

"Oh, that's a shame," Sheogorath said. "It's always a pity to see a good friendship go bad. Except when they go really bad; they're quite entertaining to watch, then. But in this case, patch it up, I say; you'll need all the friends you can get for the road ahead, that much is for certain."

"Yeah, I was hoping to do that in any case," Carnius said.

"Good man, good man," Sheogorath said. "What sparked that little feud of yours, anyway?"

"I just got angry about the way she was always criticising Dementia," Carnius said. "And then, I don't know, both our tempers just flared up much more than they should have and she stormed off."

"Ah, I see," Sheogorath said. "That might have been my fault; people on the Isles always have spats and fallings out when I'm in a bad mood, and this news about the Order Knights didn't do much for my temper."

"So this storm is your fault, isn't it?" Carnius asked.

"Oh yes, I can be held responsible for that little piece of inclement weather, I suppose," Sheogorath said. "You didn't catch a chill in it, did you? If I gave my own champion a cold I'd never hear the end of it from Peryite."

"I'm fine," Carnius said. "So what's next?"

"Next? Hmm, that's a good question. Next, next, next, let's see. A meet and greet, that's what! Get to know the Isles a little better."

"A meet and greet with who?"

"Why, the cream of the Isles' society," Sheogorath said. "Duke Thadon of Mania, and Duchess Syl of Dementia. Go and introduce yourself to them, get yourself into their good books, earn their trust. Earning their trust will be useful for later, I'm sure of that. Their estates are right here in New Sheoth so there'll be no need for any long journeys to far off places like Xedilian. Of course, they might require that of you in any case."

"My Lord, might I be so forward as to suggest that we also urge your champion in the direction of the Pillars?" Haskill asked. "We can hardly afford to dally with the Greymarch on the way, after all."

"I suppose you're right," Sheogorath said. "Alright then, two things; introduce yourself to the Duke and the Duchess and run any little errands they might need you to do; after that, fetch me the Pillars of the Isles. And get your friend back. That's three things to do."

"What are the Pillars?" Carnius asked.

"Artefacts," Sheogorath said. "Very, very powerful artefacts left behind by Jygallag in order to make the Isles easier to destroy during the Greymarch, hence why I can't just nip over there and fetch them myself. If you get those, that'll certainly make my life easier. And yours, too; a friend of mine is an enemy of Jygallag's, after all."

"And they're going to be kept by, what, some kind of trap? A dungeon filled with Grummites? A guardian of some sort?" Carnius asked.

"A guardian, yes," Sheogorath said. "Well, no. There are four Pillars, you see, one on each cardinal point of the Isles, and each one is guarded by one of my Angels."

"So I'm taking it that I need to get these Pillars for you without the Angels killing me," Carnius said.

"Exactly," Sheogorath said. "Except they won't kill you, really. Except Rage. She'll kill you, if she gets the chance, and quite spectacularly too. The others won't try and end your life, though, at least not directly. You probably won't survive, all things considered."

He glanced at Carnius.

"Are you still here?" he asked. "Get out of here, you know what to do. Shoo! Shoo shoo shoo shoo shoo!"

Sheogorath clapped his hands together, and Carnius found himself standing in the palace courtyard, his rain-cloak and pack next to him. He glanced around for a moment, baffled as to how he got there, before he shrugged and picked them up. He had a job to do, after all, and it was time to get to work.


	21. The Faith of the Feasters

**Author's note:** Gah, sorry this took so long; writing this chapter was an absolutely glacial process for some reason.

Chapter 21-The Faith of the Feasters

As was tradition, Almeria prostrated herself before the statue of Arden Sul before she tried to gain entry to the Temple of the Feast. The flesh-sculpture of the holy Prophet glistened in the rain that had spattered on its sides of bare muscle; the beating heart that the father of the Feasters held in his left hand sent bloodied water spraying on the pavement around it with every convulsion.

After she had murmured the Words of Supplication before the blessed chosen of Sheogorath, she rose, stepping through the open doors of the Temple. The threshold was decorated in its usual ornamentation of bones, meat and organs, and thanks to the weather the blood that they dripped was landing on the red-stained flagstones around the entrance with even greater rapidity. A drop of blood spattered on her forehead and she wiped it away with the back of her hand and licked it clean; tasted like Orc.

Almeria took a moment to marvel at the glorious, gore-soaked magnificence that was the central hall of the Temple of the Feast. The pillars that supported its roof gleamed in the light of the braziers that dotted it, coated with a layer of reshaped bone from generations of sacrifices. Organs and cuts of meat decorated the room, kept alive and fresh by magic, each one a living relic given willingly by the heroes and martyrs of the Feasters.

Along the walls were the freizes of various significant moments from the history of the Isles and of her faith; the Contemplation of Arden Sul and the first Sacred Gorging, his battle with the unholy force that had been Silver Famine, the penning of the Book of the Feast, his sacrifice to the Madgod where he had consumed so much flesh and viscera that his stomach had burst, an offering of himself to his fellow disciples. She stopped a moment by one of her favourite decorations, a tryptich of the martyrdom of Saint Ilvis at the hands of the Starvers; the unfortunate saint had been locked away by them without food or drink, fated to perish from malnourishment, but to spite them and to glory the Madgod she had ripped her own heart from her chest and eaten it in front of her captors.

With reverent steps, she approached the centre of the hall, the flesh-sculpt of Sheogorath himelf, sat upon a throne of carved bone. At his feet was an altar, the top already adorned with offerings, and from her pack Almeria took two of her own; the cuts she had taken from the Order Priest, unwrapping the meat from the waxed paper that held it, and the silver heart of one of the Order Knights.

"Great Madgod, mighty and benevolent lord the feast, eater of flesh and organs, accept this offering from your humble servant," she prayed, kneeling before it. "I give unto you offerings from two of your enemies, that by consuming them you might take their strength and weaken their resolve."

She drew her blade, and lay it flat befre the altar and the statue.

"My lord," she said. "In your mercy and your wisdom, I beg you to bestow Madsen with the blood that is worthy and release her from her torment."

She was quiet for a few moments more, in silent contemplation of the Madgod and Arden Sul, then rose from her kneeling position, sheathing her blade. There was a man waiting for her, a Redguard with sunken, anaemic features and a sallow shade to his dark skin, dressed in the traditional crimson robes of Feaster priests.

"You're back ealier than I expected, Almeria," he said as the missionary turned to face him.

"Feast Lord Dranden," Almeria said, bowing her head. "I had to cut my mission short; I come bearing important news, and need to make a request."

In truth, now that she was back in New Sheoth, she wanted to see Cutter, but it was more important that she gave her report to the Feasters.

"What news?" Dranden asked, frowning.

"The Final Starvation," Almeria said. "It's upon us."

"That's quite a claim to make," Dranden said. "You're certain?"

"I am," Almeria said.

"I see. Come with me, missionary, we will need to discuss this."

With Almeria in tow, the Feast Lord left the main hall of the temple, pushing open a door to the building's living quarters tucked away in the corner. They headed down some of the corridors, stopping at a doorway which Dranden pushed open. The room within was musty with the smell of old parchment and vellum, the only light the glow of a few crystals on a desk, where a bearded Dunmer was hunched over a desk with a quill and a heavy grimoire.

"Feast Lord," he said, looking up from his work. "Do you need something?"

"We need to speak to you in my office immediately, Camelran," Dranden said.

"Could it wait a little while, Feast Lord?" Camelran said. "I'm in the middle of something at the moment."

"I'm afraid it can't," the Feast Lord said. "Bring a copy of the last prophecy of Arden Sul, as well."

"If you insist," the Dark Elf said, rising from his seat and heading to a shelf. He ran a finger over the parchments stored away on it, drawing one free. "Here we are."

Dranden nodded, leaving with the lore keeper of the Feasters and the missionary follow him. He headed to his office, a spacious room dominated by a large desk; when he stood behind it and motioned for Camelran to set the text had taken down on it, looked over by the skulls of the previous Feast Lords and Feast Ladies that had come before him, set into alcoves on the walls above.

"Almeria," the Feast Lord said. "What makes you think that the Final Starvation is upon us, then?"

"Just a few days ago, I was forced to fight at the foot of an obelisk that was creating crystal beings called Order Knights," Almeria said. "I was aided by two others, a Manic named Salyan and an outsider from Nirn who came here through Sheogorath's doorway, and managed to destroy the obelisk with the help of a Dark Seducer patrol."

"That's rather unusual, but I'm not sure how that relates to the Final Starvation," Camelran said. "It sounds more like the Church of Mania's myths of the Greymarch, or the Sisterhood of Immolation's stories about the Extinguishing."

"I know, but ther's more to it," Almeria said. "There were things I saw which related to the final prophecy of Arden Sul, links to it."

She unrolled the parchment, and pointed at one of the lines on it.

"'Kneel shall the crystal call, armoured silver stone of the starvation dreadful,'" she read out. "The Order Knights I fought, they kept shouting kneel at us, like it was a war cry of some kind; that's all they would say, kneel. And they were made of a silver-coloured crystal as well."

"That sounds rather like what those lines of the prophecy were describing," Camelran nodded.

"Exactly," Almeria said. "And there's more." She pointed to another line. "'Up shall stab the obelisks of the antithesis, Isle's headstones sustaining hunger's servants eternal.' The Order Knights we fought were lead by someone called an Order Priest; every time we killed him, he would simply get back up again, resurrected by the crystal."

"You think this is the Final Starvation, then?" Dranden asked.

"And the Greymarch and the Extinguishing, and every other story that's ever been told about the end of the Isles," Almeria said. "These are the end times, there's no doubt about that."

The room was silent, Dranden giving a giving a sober nod.

"I'll send word out to all of our missionaries and have them recalled at once," he said. "We shall gather all of our people and face the Final Starvation together."

"That was the other thing I wished to see you about, Feast Lord," Almeria said. "The outsider I mentioned, the one who came here through the doorway, he's trying to stop it; I want to help him. That means I can't be with the Feasters, though."

"If you think it's for the best that you stay with him, then go with him, by all means," Dranden said. "I trust your judgement, Almeria."

"Thank you, Feast Lord," she said.

Dranden nodded, before he said; "Camelran, you can return to your work. If you could stay here a few moments, Almeria, I would be grateful."

"Of course," the missionary said as Camelran gathered the parchment and left.

"How is Madsen?" Dranden asked after the Feasters' lore keeper had departed.

"She's as well as she can be, I suppose," Almeria said. "I'm still looking for the right person, though."

"Perhaps this mission of yours will be what brings you to them," Dranden suggested. "Averting the end of the Isles is worthy cause, after all, and you can't deny that Madsen would be of great use to you in that cause."

"I'm not letting my sister stay the way she is just because she's useful," Almeria said, sudden anger slipping into her voice. "I'm going to make sure that she dies, that's what matters."

"You're right, of course," Dranden said. He decided to change the subject. "What of your supply of Madgod's Blood?"

"I was forced to use it all in order to deal with those Order Knights," Almeria said. "I need to speak to Brewing Mistress Lucia about getting some more."

"Of course," Dranden said. "One last thing, and then you can go; this outsider you're travelling with, may I speak to him about this mission of his?"

"I'll let him know that you wish to talk, of course," Almeria said, standing up. She bowed her head. "Until we meet again, Feast Lord."

"Until we meet again," Dranden said.

She made her way through the corridors of the temple, exchanging a few greetings and words with the fellow Feasters she bumped into as she went. She went downwards, into the basement of the temple where the vats were kept. She sniffed at the sweet scent that wafted towards her as she opened its door, and headed down the stairs.

The vat rooms were lit by glowing stones in order to minimise the risk of any fires, and the soft white light they cast left long, deep shadows stretching across the room. Almeria headed through the room, eyes in a slight squint against the darkness.

"Anybody here?" she called out. "Lucia?"

"Who's that?" a voice replied, and a moment later an Imperial woman stepped out from around a corner of the cellar. "Oh, Almeria, I wasn't expecting to see you here; I thought you were still out on missionary work."

"Something came up and there's something else I need to do," Almeria replied. "And I need to resupply."

"What happened to the last lot that I gave you?" Lucia asked.

"I used it all up," Almeria said. "There was a fight that I was part of, a big one that went on for a while, and I ended up using it all up then."

"Right, of course," Lucia said. "Let's see about getting some more. Come on, then."

She stepped back around the corner, Almeria following to the area where the final stages of preparation for the Madgod's Blood were made. The potent drug was the greatest weapon in the arsenal of any Feaster missionary short of their unwavering faith in the Madgod, an elixir developed by Arden-Sul in a fit of divine inspiration to boost the strength and speed of any who took it to remarkable levels. Over time, those who took it would grow stronger than most, muscular power boosted by the Felldew, Greenmote and other potent substances, along with alchemical sorcery within it. It was also highly addictive, and after a while caused the body and mind to break down and fail; the lift of a Feaster missionary was not a long one, and if the people and creatures of the Isles did not kill them, the Madgod's Blood would.

"Here we go," Lucia said, handing over a carrying case packed with small glass vials, each one filled with a dose of the potent substance. "Good luck with this mission of yours, Almeria."

"Thank you," the missionary said as she took it, pushing aside the craving that began to rise at the sight of it. She'd have some Felldew later, she decided, that would allay the worst of the rising need for the drug she was currently feeling. She'd go and find Cutter as well, get her blade attended to as well as some other matters.

She bowed her head to Lucia, and left, heading up through the temple and out into the streets of Bliss. She set her course for Crucible, abandoning the notion of finding Carnius for the moment, instead heading through the town to the forge.

She pushed open the door to the forge, and called out; "Cutter? Cutter, it's me."

The Bosmer was bent over an anvil, hammering a blade, and she looked up from her work. She was wearing goggles, and with the soot on her face she looked like an in insect of some kind. She pulled them up, a ring of clean skin surrounding her eyes, wide in surprise.

"You're back already?" she asked.

"Something came up," Almeria said. That was enough for both her and Cutter, and they kissed. The smith's lips tasted like blood, steel and smoke.

"I missed you," Cutter said.

"I was only gone a few days," Almeria said. Cutter gave her a grimy smile.

"They seemed longer when I thought you were going to be a few months," she said.

After that, she slid the bolt on the door shut and flipped the sign in the window to say that the forge was no longer open. They went upstairs on the pretence of Almeria washing away the dirt of the road and Cutter cleaning off the forge's soot. For a while, Almeria allowed herself to forget about the oncoming threat of the Final Starvation, about Madsen, about the cravings for Madgod's Blood she was feeling, about the work she had ahead of her. For a while, she simply celebrated the fact that she was back in the arms of the woman she loved.


End file.
